Two Weeks
by WriteChristineR
Summary: AU ending to Season 3. What happens when everything you thought you were working for is suddenly ripped away? The same thing that led to your success leads to your demise? Beckett is forced to reexamine her priorities. Rating is for safety.
1. A Setback

**Author's Note: I came up with the idea for this story quite awhile ago, well before Knockout aired. I read something that I thought was a spoiler but turned out not to be true. Before I knew that, though, the thought of it tormented me so much that I had to write this. If that makes any sense at all. It's kind of... an alternative take on the S3 finale, so pretend, for this, that none of the events of Knockout happened.  
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**You're probably going to be confused... well, to be honest, for most of this chapter. You won't know exactly what's going on until the end, but this chapter will pretty well set up the rest of the story, so the confusion will end shortly. I promise.**

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><p><em>What happens when everything you thought you were working for is suddenly ripped away? The same thing that led to your success leads to your demise? Nikki Heat had worked her whole life to be a cop, to bring her mother's killer to justice. Finally she'd achieved her primary goal, but doing so had ripped away her means of getting to it. She was no longer a cop. And suddenly, she didn't know who she was.<em>

He slammed his laptop closed when he reached the end of the paragraph, because it wasn't Nikki Heat he was thinking about. Nikki Heat didn't worry him. At the end of the day, at the end of the book, he always knew that Nikki Heat was going to be okay. He'd never let anything happen to her. Kate Beckett was a little further from his control.

Again he tried to call her, but again she didn't answer. "Kate," he whimpered at his phone as it rang, "please pick up. Please talk to me." But it went to voicemail, and he hung up without leaving a message. He'd already left three.

He jumped when he heard the soft knock on the doorframe and Alexis appeared. "Dad?" she asked him, frowning, "You okay? You've been in here all afternoon."

He tried to paste a smile on his face for his daughter, but couldn't quite seem to get there. He shook his head. "Not really," he murmured. He hadn't told his family about his muse's fall. He hadn't felt that he should. It was Beckett's business. Not that that had ever stopped him before.

Alexis stepped inside, closing the office door behind her although they were the only two in the apartment, and made her way to his desk. "What happened?"

He pressed his lips together and shook his head.

"You can't tell me?" She sat down in a nearby chair.

"I don't think I should. Not yet."

"Is it about a case?"

"Not… exactly."

"Beckett?"

He nodded. "And she won't take my calls."

"Is she okay?"

"I doubt it. But she won't take my calls."

"Did you have a fight?"

"No. We're okay. At least, I thought we were. But—"

"—She won't take your calls," Alexis interrupted.

"Yeah."

"Did you leave a message?"

"Three."

Alexis rolled her eyes. "Dad… I'm sure she'll call you back. She's probably just busy."

He shook his head. "I don't think so."

"You really can't tell me what happened?" Alexis asked, starting to look worried herself. "I promise I won't tell anyone."

"It's not my news to tell."

She nodded. "But I'll find out eventually?"

"I'm sure you will."

His phone vibrated and he jumped, picking it up as quickly as he possibly could. But the number on the caller ID wasn't Beckett's. It was a number he didn't recognize. "I have to get this," he told his daughter before picking it up. "Castle."

"Castle, it's Lanie," the ME's voice came through the phone. "Do you know where Beckett is?"

"Her apartment, I presume."

"No, she's not. I'm here now. Esposito told me what happened and I came on my lunch break to check on her. I couldn't think of anywhere else she'd go, so I thought maybe she was with you."

His heart beat faster. "No, she's not with me. I've tried calling her but she won't pick up."

"For me either. Do you have any idea where she might be?"

"No, none. Damn it, where would she go?" As if it hadn't worried him enough that she wouldn't answer his calls, she wouldn't answer Lanie's either? Beckett was a grown woman who could certainly take care of herself, and maybe it was ridiculous that he was so worried, but considering recent events, he didn't like the idea that she'd fallen off the grid. "Did you try her dad?"

Apparently, neither did Lanie. "No," she said. "Good idea. I'll call him."

"Call me if you find her."

"I will. Call me if you find her first."

"I will." He heard the doorbell and his heart skipped a beat. "Lanie, wait. Someone's at the door. Hold on a sec."

"You think it's her?"

"I don't know." He had no reason to suspect that it would be besides a vague feeling in his gut. "Just hold on." He went to the door and opened it. Sure enough, Beckett was there on the other side. At least, some version of Beckett. "She's here," he said into the phone, breathing half a sigh of relief.

"Is she alright? Does she want me to come there?"

"It's Lanie," Castle explained to the very confused woman before him. He ignored Lanie's first question because all three of them already knew the answer, and went straight to her second. "Do you want her to come over?"

She shook her head. "Not now."

"Lanie? She'll talk to you later."

"Okay. Tell her I love her."

"I will. Bye." He hung up the phone and ushered Beckett inside. "Lanie says she loves you." He closed the door behind her.

She half-smiled. "Why were you talking to Lanie?"

"She went to see you on her lunch break but you weren't home, so she called me to see if I knew where you were." He realized that Alexis was standing near the doorway to his office, apparently hoping to watch unnoticed. "Alexis, go upstairs," he told her in the sternest dad-voice he had at his disposal. She obeyed without a word, and he turned back to Kate. "How are you?" He looked at her, her gorgeous long hair a little unkempt, her makeup never removed or redone since the last time he'd seen her the night before. "Sorry, stupid question." He nodded in the direction of his couch. "Let's sit down."

She nodded and took a seat on the couch. He did the same, leaving a respectful amount of space between them.

"What can I do?" he asked instead.

She shook her head, an expression on her face he'd never seen before. Hopelessness. He'd seen frustration, he'd seen sadness, he'd seen pain, but never had he seen her hopeless. It caused him physical pain somewhere deep within his chest. "I don't know. I don't know why I came here."

"You're welcome here any time," he told her earnestly. "No matter what. I'm glad you're here."

"Thanks," she said softly.

"Why weren't you answering your phone?"

She frowned and pulled it out of her pocket. "Oh," she said, pressing a button and getting no response. "I guess it died. I didn't really notice."

He smiled, feeling a mixture of sympathy and guilt. "When you charge it again, you might find that you have three different voicemail messages from me. Feel free to delete them."

"Castle," she said with a sound that got caught somewhere between a whimper and a laugh.

"I'm sorry, I was just worried."

"I'm okay," she said.

"No you're not."

She sighed. "Does Alexis know?"

"No. I didn't know if you'd want me to tell her, so I didn't. She knows something happened, but she doesn't know what."

Beckett nodded. "I appreciate that. But you can tell her if you want. Everyone's going to have to find out sooner or later."

"Okay." He saw her try to stifle a yawn. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Beckett…"

She cut him off. "I'm not Beckett now, Castle," she said, eyes tearing. "I'm just Kate."

He sighed, both frustrated and saddened by the way this had affected her. "Hey," he said gently, no matter what happens, you're still Beckett. Kate Beckett. Nothing can change that. I've said this before, and I'll say it again. You're an extraordinary woman."

She didn't blush or smile, didn't even tell him to shut up. It was almost as if she hadn't heard him at all. "Castle…" she finally murmured, "…I could lose my job. I could lose my badge. Who would I be then?"

"Then," he said softly, "you would still be Kate Beckett. And you would still be extraordinary."

"I just don't know what I'd do. I've never really thought about what I'd do if I wasn't a cop. My job was my life. I… I could lose everything."

"No," he said firmly. "Not everything."

"I mean," she continued, again ignoring him, "I don't even really have any friends outside work."

"Not true. Where's Josh?"

"Who knows? South America, I think. What does it matter? He isn't here. He's never here."

"Well, it matters if you're in a relationship with him."

She shook her head.

"Wait, you're not?" He tried not to ask too eagerly. Now was obviously not the time.

She shook her head again.

"Since when?"

She shrugged. "Month or so ago, I guess."

"A month ago? And you didn't feel the need to share this information with the class?"

She rolled her eyes. "Last I checked, my personal life was _personal."_

He looked into her slowly leaking eyes, and though he doubted the tears had anything to do with Josh, he realized that now probably wasn't the time to get frustrated with her. "Sorry. You're right," he said instead, although he wasn't sure he agreed with himself. "It's just… you could've told me. I'm your friend. You can tell me what goes on in your life, and I can… help."

She frowned. "Lanie's my friend. You're my… Castle."

He smiled. "So I'm a large, luxurious stone building where you live like a queen?"

She sighed, but he could've sworn he caught a trace of a smile on her lips. "You're so annoying."

"Hey, I didn't ask you to come here. It's your own fault you're subjected to my annoyingness."

"You want me to leave?"

"Did I say that?"

She shook her head.

"Do you want to leave?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

He nodded. "Then don't. Anything I can do?" he asked again.

She shook her head. "I just… my whole life was about catching my mother's killer."

"I know. And you did."

She smiled through her tears, remembering the glory surrounding her defeat. "I did."

"Well… what more do you need the badge for now?"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know, maybe to earn a living?"

"Get a new job."

"You say that like it's so easy. I went to school, trained, to be a cop. What else can I do? Flip burgers?"

"No, I don't know." He wracked his brain for more applicable ideas. "Bounty hunter. Private investigator."

"Not exactly my style."

He smirked. "Dominatrix."

"Castle."

"Ah, almost got a smile out of that one." He smiled, and then shook his head. "It'll be okay. You're New York's finest cop. Taking your badge away would be a disservice to the city."

"Okay, even if that's true, it doesn't mean it couldn't happen. Things happen that aren't fair, Castle. They happen every day."

He nodded. "You're right. You're absolutely right." Beckett was much too well-acquainted with the world to buy any kind of sugar-coated encouragement. "If it does happen, don't think of it as your life ending, think of it as an opportunity to start a new one. You'll be able to do whatever you want."

"No I can't. I don't have the qualifications for anything else."

"So go back to school."

"I'm too old for that."

"No you're not. A lot of adults go back to school."

"How? Like I have all this extra money lying around that I don't know what to do with?"

"You may not, but I know someone that does."

"Castle…"

"What? You had a setback. A big one, sure, but what else are friends for? I've got you covered until you get back on your feet, whatever you decide to do. I'll take care of you."

She shook her head. "That's so sweet, but I couldn't accept it."

"I'm not asking you to accept anything. I'm telling you I've got your back. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. After the hearing, before the hearing, at the hearing… or right now."

"I can't—"

He interrupted her. "Sure you can. Now, tell me what you need."

"I don't _know_ what I need."

He studied her tired face carefully. If she didn't know what she needed, he'd figure it out for her. "You need sleep and perspective," he finally diagnosed.

"Well, it's the middle of the afternoon. I can't sleep. But I would settle for some perspective."

He nodded. "Okay, here it is." He looked deeply into her eyes, and she turned away. "Hey. Look at me."

She met his eyes again with a sigh.

"You, Katherine Beckett, are a brilliant, beautiful, and talented woman. You have already done great things with your life, and you will continue to do great things if that's what you wish. It doesn't matter if you're a cop or you're not. The hearing is in two weeks. You might be reinstated. You might not. Or maybe the hearing will go smoothly, they'll be willing to give you your badge back, but you'll decide that it's not what you want anymore. Any of these things could happen, and any outcome could be for the best. All you really need is time to figure out what you want the rest of your life to be. That, you have. And during that time, I and several other people I could name will be there for you in every way you allow us."

She nodded.

"Did that help?"

She shrugged. "A little. Thanks."

He heard footsteps on the stairs, and turned around to see that Alexis was coming down. "Am… I allowed to be here?" she asked a little awkwardly when she saw that he saw her.

He turned to Beckett for her answer. She looked a little embarrassed, but she smiled. "Of course. It's your house. Come here. You should know what's going on."

Somewhat reluctantly, Alexis finished descending the staircase and joined her father and the former detective in the living room, on her own chair. Castle tried to make eye contact with her, but she was looking only at Beckett. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I've… been better," Beckett admitted.

The tears that had subsided reappeared in Kate's eyes, and tentatively, Castle touched her shoulder. She didn't push him away.

"What happened?" the teenager asked, concern showing on her face.

She swallowed. "I lost my badge."

Alexis's pity turned to shock. "Like… completely?"

"No," Castle cut in. "Not completely. Not permanently. She'll have a hearing in two weeks, and they'll decide how to proceed from there."

"But… why? How?"

"I'll let your dad explain it later," Beckett answered. "Right now I _really_ just don't want to talk about it. Actually, I should probably be going."

She started to stand up, but Castle pulled her back down. "No, stay here. You already said you won't sleep, and I won't have you spending the whole day alone. Today was going to be a lazy day for Alexis and me anyway. Hang out with us."

"Castle, it's fine. I don't want to impose."

"You're not imposing. And at this point I won't take no for an answer."

She raised her eyebrows defiantly. "Oh, you won't?"

Alexis cut in before Castle could argue any further. "Detective Beckett, please, stay."

The woman seemed to deflate as she sank back into the couch. "Alexis, please just call me Kate."

Alexis blushed and looked at the floor, realizing her mistake. "Sorry." She picked her head back up. "Will you stay, though?"

Kate nodded. "I'll stay."

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><p>"She asleep?" Alexis mouthed to her father about twenty minutes into the movie they'd started watching.<p>

Castle glanced briefly at the woman beside him and nodded. He hadn't needed to look at all. He'd been watching her more carefully than the movie, and had known at the exact moment she'd drifted off.

Alexis got up and nodded for him to follow her. Standing up carefully so he didn't wake Beckett, who as much as she could claim otherwise did need her rest, he let his daughter lead him into his own study and softly closed the door behind them.

"So… what happened?" she asked.

"Finally caught her mom's killer," Castle explained.

She frowned. "But that's a good thing, isn't it? How did she lose her badge?"

"Well, when we found the guy, he was being a real…" he shuttered. "I don't even have the words. And even if I did, I'm sure I wouldn't want to use them with you here."

"Dad, I'm a big girl. I've heard swear words before."

"Yes, I know, but to accurately describe this jackass I'd have to get creative."

"What did he do?"

"Mouthing off, mostly. And we _knew_ this was the guy that had killed her, _really_ killed her, the one behind all of it, and Kate… she couldn't handle it. Got carried away. Montgomery told us not to go after him. That if we figured out where he was, to call him or Ryan and Esposito, but Beckett said it was something she had to do herself, and I respected that. I respected it, and now…"

"Dad, come on. It wasn't your fault."

"I tried to stop her, but I should've tried harder. I shouldn't have let this happen."

"It wasn't your fault," Alexis repeated.

"I called Montgomery. He sent the cops that got her in trouble. I shouldn't have… I should've protected her. At least made up some kind of story to explain the whole thing. It's what I do. It was just… I was so… afraid. I didn't want her to get hurt. He… He could've killed her."

"But he didn't. She's okay. Maybe calling when you did saved her life."

He shrugged. "I wish I could feel that way. She's so devastated. I've never known anyone who loved their job as much as she does, except maybe me, and to lose it… everything she's worked for, stripped away in a moment. I can't even imagine what that must feel like. And I have a very good imagination. I mean, she might be safe, but she isn't okay. I'm not sure it qualifies as saving someone's life if you ruin it in the process."

"It's hard to keep your job when you're dead. You didn't ruin her life. And like you said, there's still a hearing. Maybe everything will be fine."

"That's what I told her. And I told her I'd be there for her every step of the way, no matter what happens."

Alexis nodded. "Good. Me too. I mean, I doubt there's much I can do to help, but if there is, I want to."

He smiled. "I'm glad. I'll tell her that."

"Good. So, she's just going to hang out with us today?"

"Yes," Castle said firmly. "And she'll probably be around more often, at least for the next two weeks. That okay with you?" He was going to be there for Kate regardless, but having his daughter's blessing was important. If she didn't like the idea, he could at least try to be there for Kate at her apartment instead of his own.

"No, that's fine. I love Detective Beckett."

He pulled in air through his teeth. "Try to start calling her Kate, okay? Or Beckett if you have to, but drop the 'Detective' for a little while. It just upsets her."

Alexis nodded. "Right. Sorry. Kate." She looked at her father. "That sounds weird. Disrespectful or something."

He smiled, but it felt pained. "Sweetie, I doubt she sees it that way. We just… we want to make her feel better. Not worse."

She nodded. "This must be so hard for her. You really believe we can help?"

"I have to," he whispered. "And yes. I do."

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><p><strong>AN: I edited this about 30,000 times, so can you please just tell me it's good whether it is or not? *grimace***

**I'm kidding, of course. Be honest. :) But please review!**

**The first scene of this actually changed A LOT from the original version as I edited it... the original was more Casketty, but probably less realistic. If anyone's interested, I'm not above putting a link to the original version somewhere... I don't know where yet, but PM me or something if you'd like to read it so I know if there's interest.**


	2. The Beckett List

**A/N: Wow! I can't thank you guys enough for the many awesome reviews you guys gave me on that last chapter. Ever. It's such an amazing feeling to know that people actually enjoy and appreciate some of this stuff I write. And that doesn't even begin to cover it. I can't even begin to cover how happy and proud and awesome your reviews make me feel. They're like a drug. A really powerful, really addicting drug. Like heroin... or chocolate. :)**

**So for you, my awesome readers, I have another chapter. I hope you like it!  
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><p>"I'm sorry," Beckett mumbled groggily, waking up about an hour later. "I fell asleep on your movie."<p>

"Shh, it's okay," Castle said. "You needed your rest. Do you feel better?"

She shook her head. "Headache. This is why I don't usually sleep during the day. Do you have coffee?"

He smiled. "I'll make you some." He nodded at his daughter. "Alexis?"

"Got it." The girl headed for the kitchen without an instant's hesitation.

Beckett sat up further and scanned the apartment until she located the teenager, embarrassed. "Alexis. Hi."

She turned back toward them, smiling. "Hi, Det—Kate."

"You don't have to—"

Alexis cut her off. "It's okay. I make good coffee, I swear. I don't drink it that often, but my dad says it's good, anyway. Gram likes it too, but she's not picky."

"When she's drinking coffee, she's usually not in a state to notice its quality," Castle mumbled.

Beckett smiled. "Where is Martha now?"

"She got a part in a play off-Broadway, so she'll be out of town for a little while. Alexis and I have got the place to ourselves."

"Do you miss her?"

"Yes," Alexis responded from the other room.

Castle smirked and murmured, "It's very peaceful…"

Beckett shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Thanks for making coffee, Alexis," she said, choosing to temporarily ignore him.

"You sure you don't want to go a different direction?" he asked, calling her attention back to him. Vodka? Scotch? Tequila?" He smiled. "I've got it all."

She shook her head. "Later, maybe. Coffee now."

He nodded, part of him a little surprised that, even under the circumstances, she'd granted him a maybe. This was not a side of her that he was used to seeing.

A comfortable silence descended upon them until Alexis returned with the coffee. But Kate's eyes were closed, so Castle held up a finger to tell her to wait. "Kate?" he said softly, not wanting to wake her if she'd fallen asleep again. She might've disagreed, but he knew she needed sleep more than she needed coffee.

But she opened her eyes and took the mug from Alexis. "Thanks."

"Better?" Castle asked, smiling, after she took her first long sip.

She shrugged. "A little."

"What else can we do?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I'm fine."

He raised his eyebrows, making his expression serious because she was both worrying and irritating him. "Okay, if you can't think of anything that's one thing, but stop with the 'I'm fine.' You're not fine. I know you're not fine, you know you're not fine, Alexis knows you're not fine, and no one else is here. It's okay to be upset. It doesn't make you weak, it doesn't make you flawed, it just makes you _human_. And it's okay to accept help from the people who care about you. That's how you make it through the hard times without losing track of yourself. When you don't know who you are, your friends, your family, they can tell you."

She eyed him carefully. "I just meant I don't need anything right now."

He looked down, a little embarrassed. Maybe he had gotten carried away. The word "fine" did have different meanings, perhaps he shouldn't have allowed it to send him into such a rant. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "Don't be sorry. You're trying. It's not your fault I'm impossible. This whole situation is just… impossible." She took another big gulp of coffee. "_I'm_ sorry. I don't know why I came here."

"It's not impossible," he insisted. "It's far from impossible. As are you. And I don't know why you came here, but I'd like to think it was because deep down inside you know you can get through this, and without being any worse for the wear, and you knew that I'd see that and say it to you."

"You really believe that?"

"I really do. And in time, you will too. You'll see."

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><p>He tried, but even after spending the day with her, was unable to convince Kate to stay the night. He wanted to call her when he got up the next morning but refrained, hoping to let her sleep. However, he had no intention of leaving her alone for long. Now that she wasn't working he had a feeling she'd try to close herself off from the outside world, at least for awhile. But she was not alone in the world, whether she thought she wanted to be or not, and he wasn't going to let her forget that.<p>

Around noon he gave her a call, and was relieved when, this time, she answered after only two rings. "Hey, Castle." She sounded tired, but unbothered, maybe even pleased, to hear from him.

"Hey yourself. How'd you sleep?"

"Got a couple hours, I think."

He sighed. He'd hoped for better, but hadn't really expected it. "Well, that's better than nothing."

"Yeah," she agreed halfheartedly.

"You wanna come over?"

"Not really. Thanks, though."

He nodded automatically, even though she couldn't see him. "So… what are you going to do today?"

"I… don't really have any plans. What about you? Writing?"

"No, I doubt it. Haven't been very… inspired lately." There was a loaded pause, and since she didn't say anything, he tried again. "Lanie wants to see you, you gonna hang out with her?"

"She's working. And anyway, she'll want to hear my version of the story, and I really don't want to talk about it."

He wondered if this was part of the reason she'd ended up at his house the day before. After all, he already knew what had happened. He'd been there. Following that train, he figured he'd ask. "Do you want company? I could come over. I promise I won't ask you to talk… at all, unless you want to."

"No, Castle, I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking, I'm offering. Do you want me to come over?"

"I think I'd rather just be by myself today."

"Okay. That's understandable. Am I bugging you now? Want me to hang up?" He found that he didn't care what she asked of him right now. If she needed or wanted it he was going to give it to her, even if it meant leaving her alone.

"No," she said. He expected her to elaborate, but the line was silent. That was all she said. Just "no."

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he finally asked. "Anything at all?"

"I don't know what that would be."

"Okay. If you think of anything, let me know."

"I will."

"So… have you given any more thought to what we talked about yesterday?"

She took a beat to answer, and then finally asked, "What did we talk about yesterday?"

"What you want to do now. For the rest of your life. Or… at least the next two weeks."

"Oh. Not really."

"Not at all?"

"What can I do? I can't go to work, I can't look for another job because I haven't officially lost mine yet, I don't really want to see anyone because I don't really want to talk about it… What is there to do but just let the time pass?"

Hearing this idea put into words made him almost angry. "No, no, you're thinking about this all wrong," he said, adamant. "It's two weeks, Kate. Two weeks of your life. You can't just 'let the time pass,' you can't just do nothing while the rest of the world goes on around you. You'll never get these two weeks back."

"Why would I want them back? I'd rather just forget they ever happened."

He shook his head violently. She couldn't see, but he felt so strongly about this that he couldn't seem to stop himself from physically displaying his disapproval. "No, you wouldn't. You should take advantage of this time. You have two weeks of total freedom. No restrictions, no responsibilities, you can do anything you want. They could be the _best_ two weeks of your life."

"Castle," she sighed, "all I really want is to go to work like I've done every other day."

"You are very much lacking in imagination," he teased her gently, in a sad voice.

"I imagine that's true," she replied.

"Come on… is there anything you've always wanted to do that you couldn't because of your job?"

"No."

"Really think for a second. Everyone feels restricted by their job at times, even me. Well, maybe not me." He smiled. "Travel?" he guessed.

"Yeah, maybe. I don't usually get a whole lot of vacation time…"

"Good. Put that on the list. Traveling."

"What list?"

"The list you're going to make of all the things you couldn't do before that you can now. You'll do as much of it as you can in the next two weeks, and then after the hearing you can look at what's left. If you get your badge back, you can decide if you'd rather go back to work or keep working on the list. And if you don't… Well, then you'll already have all of these goals. It's somewhere to start."

"Well… how can I travel now?" she argued. "I don't have all this extra cash just lying around, especially now that I might not have any income."

"You weren't listening to me at all yesterday, were you? _I do."_

"Castle—"

But he interrupted her almost before she got his name out. "Now there's the matter of what to call it… it's not a bucket list, as you're certainly not dying…ooh, I know. The Beckett List. It's perfect!" He dug through his desk drawers for a piece of paper and a pen so that he could start creating this brilliant list. He soon found one and scrawled "The Beckett List" at the top. "Now, do you have any specific ideas about where you'd like to travel?"

"I can't just—"

"Sure you can." He thought maybe if he didn't let her finish a sentence that wasn't a part of his brilliant plan, she might actually participate. "What do you want to see? Vegas? Europe? Africa? The North Pole? Atlantis? Narnia?"

"I haven't been to the beach since I was a little girl…" she said, reluctantly. "I guess… I'd kind of like to do that."

"We went to the beach in LA," he reminded her.

"Yeah, and I almost shot a guy. Not exactly relaxing."

"Oh." He immediately regretted bringing that incident up, afraid it would remind her of the more recent incident that he knew she was trying not to think about. "Sorry." He wrote "beach" on the list. "What else?"

"I guess I always wished I had more time to read…"

"You read plenty, but I guess I'll add it."

"Are you actually making a list?"

"Of course. How else will we remember? We can check things off as we go."

"We're not actually going to do this, Castle."

"Of course we are. Or, you are, actually. What else?"

"I don't know."

"Come on. What else did you always wish you had more time to do?"

"I guess… I've lost touch with a lot of old friends. So… spend time with friends and family."

"Good, perfect." He wrote it down.

"And… to have a relationship. A real, lasting relationship. Not… not like what I had with Josh."

He was surprised she'd shared this last bit with him. Her love life was usually an off-limits topic. But he wrote it down. "Got it. Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of."

"Well, that's a good start. And when you think of more, just tell me and I'll add it to the list. When do you want to get started?"

"This is your thing, Castle," she sighed, a little exasperated. "When would _you_ like to get started?"

"I think you should start as soon as possible. Tomorrow. Or today. Both, actually. And I have the perfect idea for how to begin. Today, you can read. Pick something easy and lighthearted. A beach book, you know? And then find some more and pack them, because tomorrow you're going to the beach."

"And how exactly to do expect me to do that?"

"My place in the Hamptons. Take it for as long as you like. I'll give you the keys. You can invite Lanie, or maybe some of those friends you say you've lost touch with… or just go by yourself. It's very peaceful, and it's away from all of this. You won't have to think about anything. Reality is off-limits. Turn over a new leaf."

"That's nice, Castle, but I don't want to stay at your place without you there… it would be too weird."

"No it wouldn't. I'd leave you alone, I promise. It would be your place until you're ready to leave."

"No… no, I couldn't."

He could tell she'd thought about it, and it bothered him that she wasn't accepting. So rather than giving up, he decided to pitch a different idea. One he'd thought of first, but hadn't thought there was a chance in the world of her accepting. Now that she'd rejected his initial offer, he figured he'd try it. He didn't have anything to lose. "What if I went too? I usually go up there around this time of year anyway, and I have plenty of bedrooms. It would be totally relaxed?" His voice went up at the end, because he so doubted she'd agree that he felt is safer to ask than really offer.

But she didn't immediately refuse. In fact, she didn't say anything at all, so either she was actually considering or trying to devise a way to permanently shut him up.

"Come on, Kate," he tried to encourage her. "Get away from all of this for a little while. Your life will still be here when you get back."

"What's left of it," she murmured.

"Stop. Come on, you have to do this. Change your outlook."

"Maybe…" She hesitated. "Maybe just for a couple days."

He was actually shocked by her answer. "Really?"

"It would be nice… to get away."

"Then it's settled. We leave tomorrow. Pack your things and I'll pick you up at eleven."

"Are you sure? What about Alexis?"

"She has school, but I might be able to get her to come up on the weekend if we're still there."  
>"No, I mean, Martha's out of town, right?"<p>

"Oh, she'll be fine by herself," he said quickly. "She's done it before. She's seventeen, and pretty responsible. And she can have a friend come over if she wants."

"You're sure you want to? Don't you have stuff to do?"

He smiled. "Think about what I usually do during the day. I'm kind of out of a job too."

She responded immediately, and defensively. "You are _not_."

""No, sorry…" He hadn't wanted to upset her. "That's not what I meant. I just meant I have some free time. To do stuff like this. Reallly, there's nothing I'd rather do. And I'll leave you alone if you want me to. It'll be your call."

"Eleven?" she asked, changing the subject slightly.

"Yeah, eleven's good. It'll give me time to get ready. If that's okay with you?"

"Oh, I don't know Castle, with everything I have going on right now, I doubt I'll be ready in time…"

He laughed a little humorlessly. "Well, I'm glad you have enough energy for your cynical sarcasm. I'll see you tomorrow, then. And call me if you need anything else, okay?"

"Thanks, Castle. See you tomorrow."

* * *

><p><em>You're a grown man,<em> he reminded himself as he stood before his daughter's bedroom door. _Just tell her. It won't be a problem._

But the fact was that he knew it wouldn't be as simple as he'd tried to convince Beckett, as he'd tried to convince himself, that it would be. It wasn't like he went out of town often, not without a specific reason, and not without taking Alexis with him. On the few occasions that he had, for the most part, Martha had been home. He hadn't lied to Kate exactly, Alexis had been home by herself before, but not for more than a couple of days at a time, and he really wasn't at all sure what her reaction to this trip would be. But finally he gathered his nerve and knocked lightly.

"Come on in, Dad," she called from inside.

Alexis was at her desk when he walked in, so he took a seat on the edge of her bed. "I have something to run by you," he said.

Sensing his unease, she turned her desk chair to face him. "What is it?"

"How would you feel if I … went away for a couple of days?"

She lowered her eyebrows, confused. "Away where?"

"The Hamptons."

"In the middle of the week?"

"Yeah. Well, tomorrow."

If she'd been confused before, he didn't know what she was now. "Why?"

"Beckett. She needs to get away for a little while, and I thought I'd go with her."

It seemed that Alexis was finally beginning to comprehend. "Ah. For how long?"

"I honestly don't know. It could be anywhere from two days to… two weeks. We need to be back here two weeks from tomorrow for the hearing."

"Two weeks?" she repeated, uncomfortable.

"It probably won't be that long. You could even come with us if you want. Take some time off of school."

"I have finals coming up. I can't do that."

He nodded. "I figured you'd say that. But you're more than welcome to come hang out over the weekend if we're still there. And in the meantime you could have a friend come stay with you." He held eye contact with his daughter, silently pleading with her to understand how important this was. "I don't want her to be alone," he said. "Not now. She needs… Well, I don't know if she needs _me,_ exactly, but she needs someone, and she's willing to tolerate me for some reason. I think it's got something to do with the fact that I was there with her when everything happened. She doesn't have to explain anything to me."

Alexis slowly nodded. "But… what if I need you here?"

"Then I won't go," he said solemnly.

"Then… it's up to me?"

"It's completely up to you. But I will ask you to remember how you said that if there was anything you could do to help her, you wanted to do it. I think this would help her. But it's your call."

"Is there anything… going on between the two of you?"

He frowned. "Nothing different than yesterday. Or any other day. Why?"

"I don't know. It just seems… different. Yesterday too. There was a vibe."

"Just helping out a friend."

"But if it becomes more than that, you'll tell me?"

Now _this_ was different. Alexis didn't usually ask much about his personal life. "Sure," he told her. "But it won't."

"But if it does?"

"Of course. Why are you so interested?"

"Because Beckett's different," she said simply.

He nodded. "She is, isn't she?"

Alexis nodded.

"So… what do you think?"

"I think… she needs you more than I do right now."

He got up from where he was sitting and hugged his daughter. "Thank you," he told her. "And if you need anything, you just call me and I'll come right home. Okay?"

She nodded. "I'll be fine."

"I know." He turned to let her go back to her studying, and hardly realized that he was shaking his head in amazement as he walked away.

"What?" she asked, bringing him back to reality.

He turned back around to face her and smiled. "Oh. Nothing. Just… sometimes I marvel at the woman you're turning out to be."

She rolled her eyes. "Dad…"

"No," he interrupted her. "Really. And I know that neither genetics nor parenting explains it, so you must just be a fluke." He smiled.

Alexis laughed, and then met his eyes. "Maybe it's a little of all three."

* * *

><p><strong>So... hopefully you liked this chapter too and it wasn't just the new story novelty that intrigued all of you. :)<br>**

**Bonus points if you got the slightly tweaked Firefly reference.**

**And remember... reviews are like heroin and/or chocolate. WANT. (Yes I did sort of steal that from Nathan, paraphrase it and change the context. No I will not apologize.) Also, getting reviews does tend to motivate me to write faster. I know we all say that, but it's so true.**


	3. Tension

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, especially after I posted the first two chapters so close together. I'd actually written a lot of the second chapter already by the time I posted the first... so I won't normally be that fast about updating, unfortunately. Anyway, enjoy chapter 3!  
><strong>

* * *

><p>When he pressed Beckett's doorbell for the third time, he wasn't sure whether he was more irritated or worried. He'd told her he'd be there at eleven, and it was now ten after. Why wasn't she answering her door?<p>

He let out a breath when he finally heard footsteps. So she was home, at least. When she finally opened the door, pink-faced and bleary-eyed, all traces of annoyance vanished from him. "Hey, Castle," she greeted him in a voice that sounded as if it hadn't quite woken up yet. "Sorry. I, um… I just woke up."

He smiled. "So you slept better, I gather?"

She looked down and contemplated how to answer for a moment. "Just… longer," she finally said.

He felt a familiar little flutter of worry, but consoled himself with the belief that this trip was exactly what she needed. "We'll fix that," he promised. "Are you about ready to go?"

She looked back at him and rolled her eyes. "Castle. Do I look ready?"

He noted the T-shirt and cloth shorts she was wearing, as well as her unkempt hair and lack of makeup. "I guess not…"

She shook her head. "I'm not even packed. Sorry. I was planning on doing it this morning… I haven't slept this late since college."

"Don't apologize, I'm not in a hurry. Tell you what. I'll go get coffee, you get dressed, and when I get back I'll help you pack. Sound good?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Thanks. But, um… don't get my usual."

"Okay… what do you want?"

"I don't care," she said quickly, "I just want something different. You pick. I'm sure I'll love whatever it is."

He smiled. She must have realized what she'd said as soon as it left her mouth, because her face immediately started to redden. But he just nodded. He was pleased with this. Not only did she trust him to choose her beverage for her, but she was doing exactly as he thought she should. Changing her routine. Starting fresh. Her coffee order might have been a minor change, but it was a change nonetheless. "Okay. I'll be back. With coffee."

She nodded. "Good."

* * *

><p>The next time Kate answered the door, Castle was pleased to note that she looked a lot more like herself, probably the most she had since the incident. Her hair was straight and brushed, she was wearing jeans and a fitted t-shirt, and she'd put on a little bit of makeup. Generally, she just looked a lot more put together, and somehow that just reassured him. He knew it didn't mean that everything was as it should be, but at least it was a little closer.<p>

"I brought coffee," he greeted her, handing her a cup.

"What did you pick?" she asked.

He nodded toward the cup. "You tell me."

She took a sip. "It's good."

He smiled. "I'm glad."

"What is it?"

"You tell me," he repeated.

"Ah." She took another sip and frowned. "I honestly don't know. It's not vanilla… caramel, maybe?"

He shrugged. "I'm not telling."

She rolled her eyes. "So it's top secret coffee?"

He nodded. "Top secret."

"If I get it right, will you tell me?"

"Maybe."

"Then I'm just going to drink it and not worry about what it is."

"Good plan."

She stepped back, nonverbally inviting him inside. When he followed her, a part of him expected the apartment to be different, somehow changed. It seemed wrong that as her life's work hung in the balance, when the woman herself seemed to have lost some of her vibrancy, her apartment would remain the same. But it had. He hadn't been here many times, but at least to his eye, it looked exactly the same. It didn't seem inexplicably dark or empty, not larger or smaller than it had once been. This reinforced the conclusion he'd come to earlier: Beckett was not Nikki Heat.

When he was writing, a major event in the main character's life affected everything. No small detail was untouched. Everything was seen through a filter: it became darker or brighter, or maybe it just changed color. But real life wasn't a novel. Things changed, and things stayed the same. This was what he had to show Kate. While her job might have been a part of who she was, it wasn't all of who she was. There was more to life, and there was more to her. She was a person, not just a character. She was his friend. Not just his muse.

"So, have you started packing yet?" he asked once he was inside.

"Uh…" she shrugged. "Not really. What do I pack? I don't know how long we're going to be gone, or what I'm going to need…"

He shrugged. "So just pack everything. Pack enough for two weeks, because that's when we know we have to be back. Go with an assortment. Everything you know you'll need and anything you think you might need. If you forget something, we can always get it later. Just pack a foundation. It's not life and death." He sat down on the couch and prepared himself to wait, used to the speeds at which his mother and daughter normally packed. "If there's anything I can do to help, let me know. Otherwise, take your time."

She nodded, digesting his advice. "Okay," she finally said. "Give me ten minutes."

He couldn't wrap his mind around this estimate. "Take your time," he said again. "It's not like we have a deadline."

She rolled her eyes. "Ten minutes," she repeated.

It didn't matter how many times she repeated it, he wasn't going to believe it. But he nodded, letting her go on thinking that he did, and took his iPhone out of his pocket as he sank further into the couch.

He wasn't any closer to achieving three stars on the level of Angry Birds he was playing when Beckett came back into the room with a fairly large suitcase. He swore loudly at his phone before he realized she was there.

She raised a bemused eyebrow at him. "What?"

He jumped, fully realizing her presence for the first time. "Oh. This… game." He looked up from it and noted her suitcase. "What can I do for you?"

"You can get up and come on. I'm ready to go."

He looked back down at his phone and noted the time. It hadn't been more than ten minutes. It might actually have been a little less time. "Really?"

She nodded.

"That was fast."

"I told you ten minutes."

"But… I didn't believe you."

She rolled her eyes and glanced at his phone as well. "Let me see," she said.

Still puzzled, he handed it to her.

She looked at the phone, studied it for a second, and smiled. A few crashing sounds later, she handed it back to him. He looked at the screen. Level cleared. Three stars. All he could do was gape at her. "How…?" he managed.

"Are we leaving, or what?"

Still staring at his phone, he closed the game. He looked up at her. "Yeah. Let's go." When he stood up she took the handle of her bag, but he walked to her instead of the door. "Let me take that," he offered.

"No, it's okay, Castle. I'll get it. It's kind of heavy."

"I got it," he insisted. "Really."

"Fine." Her hand brushed his briefly as she gave him the handle.

He faltered a little as the full weight was transferred to him. She was right, it was heavy. Heavier than he'd guessed from its size. "Geez Bec—Kate." He looked away, having remembered her sensitivity about being called by what she considered her "work name" after it was already halfway out of his mouth. He planned to break her of that—after all, Beckett was still her last name—but not all at once. "What do you have in here?" he asked, meeting her eyes again.

She shrugged. "I did what you said, and packed everything I thought I might need."

"For two weeks! What did you do, pack sixty pairs of shoes?"

She bit her lip to hide her smile. "Not sixty…"

"Fifty-nine?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Maybe. You're the one who offered to carry it. Are you rescinding that offer?"

"Oh no, I'll carry it. I just can't figure out got so much weight in a bag this size. It's not that it's small, it just defies the laws of physics."

She shrugged. "I'm good like that. Can we go?"

"Yes, we can go." He took the bag and led the way out of the apartment so that she could lock the door behind them, and then proceeded to lead her out of the building and to the car.

"What did you do, rent a car?" she asked when he popped the trunk of a large silver sedan in the parking lot.

"Yeah, I didn't think all our stuff would fit in the Ferrari. I made sure to get something with a lot of space." He didn't mention that he'd also gone out of his way to make sure that the car he rented couldn't in any universe be mistaken for a police car.

She nodded. "Smart."

He got into the driver's seat and she the passenger's. "They also told me it has a seriously kickass sound system." He smiled. "Shall we test it?"

She shook her head quickly. "No. No music."

He frowned. "No music? Why?" They often listened to the radio when they were in the car together, and he couldn't understand her sudden aversion to it.

"I just… don't want it right now." He didn't miss the slight shaking of her voice, nor the fact that she swallowed hard after speaking, as though fighting back tears.

"Okay," he said gently. "We'll leave the radio off." He couldn't even begin to understand why, but now didn't seem like the time to push.

"Thanks," she whispered.

He nodded, but he felt the knot that had been forming in his stomach tighten. It was becoming increasingly apparent that this trip was not going to be a normal, relaxing, beginning-of-the-summer vacation. He'd known this from the very second he suggested it, but somewhere in the back of his mind he'd been picturing himself lying on a beach chair beside Kate reading or talking while they tried to soak up the sun's first summer rays. He'd pictured roasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories late into the night, and wading knee-deep into the still freezing cold surf. He'd pictured driving the two hours to the Hamptons with the radio cranked up, belting out lyrics or bantering about whose music taste was better. He hadn't imagined the tension he could feel in the air, the heavy silence, the feeling that if he said or did the wrong thing at the wrong time she would literally break.

He wasn't sorry he'd offered to do this, but there was no way he was going to be able to handle this much strain for two straight weeks. This had to help her. Something that happened while they were away _had_ to help, even if just a little. Enough to take the edge off of her pain. Enough to dull her apprehension. Even if the threat of losing her job didn't turn out to cause Beckett's demise, seeing her in so much pain without the ability to really do anything would surely cause his. If the pressure of this tension kept up, he would surely combust.

Eventually, he came to the conclusion that the ten straight minutes of dead silence in the car wasn't helping either of them. "I think you're really going to like the Hamptons," he said off the cuff.

She started at the sound of his voice. Apparently he'd pulled her back into the car from some other faraway place. She forced a little smile and nodded. "I'm sure it's great."

"It's a nice place to escape," he told her. "It'll be good for you."

She sighed. "Castle, will you please stop telling me what I need and what'll be good for me? I'm coming, aren't I?"

He nodded, but didn't say anything else, feeling a little cut by her words. He was only trying to help, and just the other day she'd _asked_ him to tell her what she needed. Maybe he was trying a little too hard now, but she was really making him work. He usually didn't have to wrack his brain to come up with things to say to her. Their conversations just flowed, effortless. And when there was a period of silence, it was usually comfortable, not awkward.

This time, the first person to break the silence was Kate. "I'm sorry," she said. "You're breaking your neck trying to help me and I'm snapping at you."

"It's okay."

She shook her head. "No it's not. I didn't mean that, I'm just… I'm in a lot of different places right now."

He nodded. "I understand."

She sighed. "Can you please just _not_ understand for once? Get mad at me. Tell me I'm impossible. Yell at me. I deserve it."

He smiled, but without any real joy or amusement. "Not now, but I'll work on it." He realized that he was probably lying, just appeasing her again. The last thing he wanted to do was make life any more difficult for her. He was a patient man in general, and he had even more patience for Beckett than he did for most people. Even if she upset him, it would take a lot for him to actually get angry with her, and even more for him to let her know.

"I would appreciate that." She looked at him pointedly, like she guessed what he'd been thinking.

"Just… try to be here," he suggested.

She frowned. "What?"

"You said you're in a lot of different places. Try to be here. Just here. In the moment. If it sucks you can change it, but you can't change places where you're not. You can't change the past or predict the future. Just be here."

She nodded. "I'll try."

"Good."

"But it won't be easy."

He shrugged. "Nothing is really easy, is it?"

She thought about this for a moment. "No," she finally said. "Nothing really is."

* * *

><p><strong>I... don't have a lot to say about this chapter. For once. I guess I'm hoping it speaks for itself. Let me know what you thought of it and it's very likely I'll love you forever. :) That's all.<strong>

**Oh, one other thing that I'm now adding in after the fact. Remember how I mentioned that I changed a lot between the first version I wrote of this story and what I've posted? And I said I was going to put the original version somewhere so you could read it if you want? I finally did. So this is basically the original version of the first chapter and some of the second chapter of this. :) Here's the link, just take out the spaces:**

**http:/ isayitslove13. tumblr. com/post/10181419355/ original-more-casketty-first-draft-of-two-weeks**


	4. Decisions

Between the traffic and the atmosphere inside the car, which did relax a little but never really lost all of its strain, the drive to the Hamptons was long. But finally they arrived, and he pulled into the familiar driveway just as he'd done so many times before. The only thing different, and it was remarkably different, was his passenger.

Ten years ago, Alexis had jumped out of the car and run immediately toward the beach, pulling him along. Five years ago she'd brought a friend, and had gotten out of the car before he even shut it off to start showing the girl around. Last year, Gina had immediately requested to see the bedroom.

Now, Kate sat silent beside him, not moving yet, just looking out the windows. "This your place?" she finally asked, although he would've thought it was obvious.

"This is it," he told her. "What do you think? Will it do?"

"I think it will," she said, smiling slightly.

He opened the car door and was immediately grateful for the fresh, salty air that surrounded him. It seemed to immediately dissipate some of the tension that had been in the car. "Shall I show you around?" he asked.

"Don't we need to get our bags?"

"We can get them later. Let me give you a tour."

She opened her door. "Okay."

He led her down the pathway that wound around to the back of the house and toward the beach. He looked out at the water. It was a pretty calm day, and the sunlight glistened off the surface of the water that seemed to go on forever. "Pretty good view, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Not bad."

He started up the stairs to the house. "Here we have the deck," he said as he reached it. There was a fairly large, rectangular table surrounded with chairs, and four lounge chairs off to one side. "Good place to have coffee in the morning if the weather's nice. Sometimes you can look out into the water and see dolphins."

She smiled. "Sounds nice." She still seemed a little disconnected, like she was looking at a picture. Like she wasn't actually here.

He unlocked the glass-paneled door and showed her inside. "Kitchen," he said, nodding to the right. He pointed out the table. "And dining room area." To the left there was a couch and two armchairs – elegant, but overstuffed and comfortable-looking – with a large flat screen TV on the wall in front of them, a fireplace off to the side, and a pool table behind. "Living room," he said. He pointed out the front door and the stairs that would take them back to the car, and then showed her to the hallway with the bedrooms.

It was a vacation home, so the bedrooms weren't really personalized. They all had similar furniture and beach-themed pictures on the walls. Still though, it had always been predetermined whose room was whose. He got the room with the largest, most comfortable bed, the adjoining private bathroom, and the two picture windows that looked out on the ocean. Alexis took the room beside his that had two beds, one for her and one for a friend. Down the hall were two guest rooms that were occasionally, albeit rarely, used. Usually when his mother came along she stayed in one of these.

He'd already decided that, this time, the master bedroom would go to Kate. It had the best view, and he figured she'd be most comfortable with her own bathroom. There was no reason she needed to know it was the master, since the doors were closed and she wouldn't know what the other bedrooms were like.

"This is my room," he said, casually tapping the door of one of the two guest rooms. "And this," he said, opening the door of the master, "will be yours. It's got its own bathroom, and the kitchen is right around the corner."

"Wow," she said, stepping inside and looking around. "Nice."

He smiled. "It's a great room, isn't it?"

"Great room," she repeated. "Thanks, Castle."

He nodded. "Okay. So I say we get our bags and get settled in, and today we can just relax. I'll unpack and then I'll probably be out on the deck if you want me for anything. We can talk if you want, or you can just pretend I'm not here. It makes no difference to me." That last part was a bit of a lie. Of course it made a difference. But he wanted her to have the freedom to decide how she wanted to spend her time without counting him as a factor. "We have no food whatsoever, I'll have to go grocery shopping tomorrow, but tell me when you get hungry and we'll order pizza. There's a great place down the street from here that delivers." He looked at her for some hint of acknowledgement. "Sound good?"

"Yeah," she said. "Sounds good.

He wished there'd been some basic amount of enthusiasm behind that, but he'd heard none. Regardless, he went to go get the bags.

* * *

><p>Kate seemed partial to the pretending he wasn't there idea. As promised he'd gone out on the deck and tried to get some writing done, but he found that his glance kept falling back to the door, wondering if she'd emerge.<p>

She didn't. Around seven o'clock he felt his stomach start growling, and he still hadn't seen her. He knew she hadn't eaten since they'd stopped for lunch on the drive and had to be hungry as well, so he figured he should try and find her.

It wasn't difficult. She'd left the door to her bedroom open, and she was sitting on the bed, which was still fully made, reading a book. He knocked gently on the doorframe and she immediately looked up.

"Hey, I was just gonna order pizza," he reminded her. "You hungry?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"Any suggestions?"

"No, just get whatever you want. I'll eat it."

He sighed and took half a step into the room. "Okay, see, this isn't going to work. We're not just going to do everything I want because you feel like this is my house." He saw the way she was looking at him and amended. "Okay, yes. It is my house. Technically. But it's not like I live here all the time. While you're here, I want you to make yourself at home. I mean that."

She nodded, although he still wasn't convinced that she was agreeing to this. "Okay, but you've been to this pizza place before, right? I haven't. You know what they have that's good. You pick."

"See, that kind of logic I can understand." He smiled. "How do you feel about buffalo chicken pizza?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Crime against nature."

"So you've never had it?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Then that's settled. A small buffalo chicken and a small… pepperoni or sausage?"

"Uh, pepperoni."

"Good. Small buffalo chicken and a small pepperoni. Should I just come get you when it's here or…?"

"You're having it delivered, right? Won't I just hear the doorbell?"

He nodded. "Right. Good. That works then."

* * *

><p>"I don't know, Castle," she said, eyeing the pizza on the plate in front of her skeptically. "Buffalo chicken on pizza?"<p>

He smiled. "I can't believe you haven't tried it yet. It's been big for a couple of years now."

"Yeah, well, I grew up in New York. I'm a pizza purist."

He shrugged. "So did I, and I love this stuff. First you have to try it, then you can judge."

She picked it up, but continued staring at it rather than taking a bite.

"Think of it as a new chapter in your pizza-eating life," he suggested.

She rolled her eyes, but then took a bite.

He waited for her to react. "Well?"

"You know, it's actually pretty good."

He grinned. "What did I tell you? The pepperoni's pretty good too. This place just has good pizza."

She nodded. "It really is good."

"So how do you like the place?"

"It's great." She looked around the deck for a beat. "I love that you have a table out here, and the view is fantastic."

"I'm glad you like it. I do too. Been coming here for… oh, most of Alexis's life, I guess. It really feels like a second home."

"It _is_ a second home."

He shot her a slightly impatient look. "I know, but that's not what I mean. I have a lot of memories here is what I mean, I guess."

"Oh," she said simply, her expression unreadable. She was suddenly very concentrated on finishing her first slice of pizza, and he couldn't begin to guess what she was thinking about.

"With Alexis, mostly," he added. "She learned how to swim here, in the pool and the ocean… and when we were here, it was like… nothing else mattered. We were the only two people in the world." He smiled, suddenly feeling nostalgic. "When I look at pictures just from our summers here, it's like watching her grow up all over again."

Kate smiled as well. "That sounds nice."

He nodded. "It was." He shrugged, bringing himself back to the present. "Then you know, she started to get older and wanted to bring friends… it was never quite the same. But we had some good times here."

"And I'm sure you'll have more. She's not totally grown up yet."

He nodded. "You're right. But she is getting there a little faster than I expected."

"Well that's life, isn't it?" she said, a little sadly. "Nothing ever really happens the way we expect it to."

"That's good though, isn't it? I mean, if everything was always exactly the way you expected… wouldn't that be boring?"

"You know, sometimes a little bit of boring isn't the worst thing in the world."

"It's good to break things up, though. I mean, even a week ago, would you have believed you'd be here now? In the Hamptons? With me?"

"No. Not at all."

"And is that the worst thing in the world?" He was trapping her here and he knew it. He knew she was far too polite to say yes. But he still hoped that maybe she wouldn't want to. Maybe she'd realize that this was a good thing. That she could be happy here, if only for two weeks.

She shrugged. "I guess not. It's just… not where I would've chosen to be right now."

"Or who you would've chosen to be with." As soon as it was out of his mouth he regretted it. Why had he said that? Why had he had to make this about himself? That wasn't the point. That wasn't why he was here. It wasn't what he'd wanted to do, it had just come out. He wanted to tell her not to answer, to pretend he'd never said it, but she answered before he could.

"I didn't say that, did I?"

He didn't mean to smile as he took a second piece of pizza out of the box, but it was a reaction that he couldn't control.

* * *

><p>Beckett's door was still closed when he got home from grocery shopping. He hadn't seen her since pizza the night before, but he assumed she was sleeping late again and left her alone. Sleep could only be a good thing, he figured, especially considering that he was pretty sure she hadn't gotten enough of it lately.<p>

He started putting food away in the cupboards and the fridge. His goal had been frivolity without excess. Choices, but moderation. He wanted to make sure he had food that Kate would like, but he knew they wouldn't be here any longer than two weeks and didn't want to have to throw a lot away before they left.

His phone started ringing while he was putting a pint of Ben and Jerry's in the freezer. He closed the freezer door and saw that it was Lanie, identified as such since he'd added her to his contacts. "Hi Lanie," he said when he picked it up.

"Castle, what the hell is going on?" the already angry ME asked, forgoing anything that could in any society be construed as a greeting. "She's still not answering her phone and I know you talked to her, so spill."

He frowned. She'd said all of that so fast that he couldn't quite put two and two together. "Who?"

_"Who?"_ Castle held his phone out from his ear and looked at it, momentarily convinced that she'd blown out its speaker. But she obviously hadn't, because then he wouldn't have been able to hear the rest of her exasperated demands. "Don't give me that! You know exactly who! Where is she?"

He was pulled back to reality very quickly, and found that Lanie was right. He did know exactly who she was talking about, and he wasn't sure why he hadn't known immediately. "Sorry, Lanie. She's here with me. In the Hamptons. I thought it would be good for her to get away for a little while. She didn't tell you?"

"I haven't talked to her at all. I can't get her to answer her phone or call me back. So no, I have no idea what's going on in her life." It was obvious that Lanie was more than irritated by all of this. "She went to the Hamptons with you?"

"Yeah. Trust me, I was as surprised as you when she said she'd come. But she did, and we're here."

"Well, that's good." She seemed to relax a little. "It will do her good to get away, I'm sure. I just wish she'd talk to me. How's she doing?"

"Uh, I don't know." He sat down sideways in one of the dining chairs just outside of the kitchen. "She's hard to read. Sometimes she seems totally fine, other times I can't even get through to her."

"How is she now?"

"I'm not with her now. I haven't actually seen her yet this morning."

"You _what?_"

"I haven't seen her yet," he repeated. "She's probably sleeping late, she did yesterday. She didn't sleep well the first couple of nights, so she's had some catching up to do."

"You haven't been in to check on her?"

He frowned. "No? I'm trying to give her some space."

Lanie sighed heavily. "Space? Space is the _last_ thing she needs right now. Do you think she agreed to an intimate getaway in the Hamptons with you because she wanted space?"

_Intimate? _He felt like his mind had just been erased. He didn't know what to make of anything anymore. Everything was blank. "She just… she just said she'd be more comfortable with me here, since it's my place. But you know how independent she is, I think she wants to be alone."

"Come on, Castle. You don't really believe that."

"What? I keep telling her I'm here if she wants anything, but she's mostly just stayed in her room."

"Don't be an idiot, you know Beckett as well as I do. She hides. From me, obviously," there was still some bitterness in Lanie's tone, "but also from you, from herself… When she doesn't want to deal with something she tries to ignore it, and when she can't ignore it she tries to hide from it… you know all of this. But what she really wants, what she really _needs_, is for someone to find her. Bring her to reality. _Make_ her deal with it. And since you're apparently the only person she's willing to talk to right now, my guess is she wants it to be you."

He thought about this for a long moment, but he soon came to the uncomfortable conclusion that Lanie was probably right. "I don't want to upset her," he protested.

"Of course you don't. But guess what? She's already upset. She's just keeping it to herself, and that's not good."

"No," he agreed. "It's not."

"I know you care about her, Castle," Lanie said in the gentlest tone he'd heard yet. "Otherwise you wouldn't be with her right now. And I know you want to do the right thing. So don't just take the easy way out. Don't let her hide from you."

"You think she's awake?"

He could almost hear Lanie's eyes roll. "It's almost noon. I'm pretty damn sure."

"And you think I should go check on her?"

"Absolutely. Check on her. Talk to her. Bother her. Don't leave her alone."

"Okay. I will."

"Good. Take care of my girl, Castle."

He nodded. "I'll try."

"You'd better. I'll keep checking in."

"Okay. Thanks, Lanie."

"No problem. Let me know if there's anything I can do. And try to get her to call me?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Good. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye." He hung up the phone, sighed, and slid it back into his pocket. He glanced at the groceries he'd left on the table. He'd already put away everything that needed refrigerated, so he abandoned them and turned the corner that led to the closed door of Kate's room. He knocked softly and waited for a response. When it didn't come, he turned the knob soundlessly and pushed the door forward.

* * *

><p><strong>Wow. That's a pretty horrible cliffhanger, isn't it? Sorry about that. Kind of. But look at it this way: it's a cliffhanger for me too. When I leave a chapter like that, chances are I'll have more incentive to get the next chapter done sooner. Because I want to know how it turns out too. :) And because I fear angry mobs... Kidding. Kind of. :P<strong>

**Oh, how I love Lanie. I miss her. And everyone else, obviously... I SO can't wait until Monday. :) That said, I will definitely try to get at least one more chapter posted before then to keep you (and me!) entertained (and procrastinating).  
><strong>

**You know what else makes me write faster? Reviews. They also allow me to gauge just how angry a mob I might have to deal with... :)  
><strong>


	5. Changes

**Dearest Readers: My goodness, I suck. I left you on a cliff for, what, two weeks now? I'm sorry. That's just mean. I've been writing, just nothing I could post... my muse is all over the place right now. At the moment I'm working on three stories (one's a oneshot I haven't posted yet), and she wants me to start yet another multi-chapter story, but I'm trying to resist because I really don't have time to focus on updating three different fics and still deal with schoolwork. I'm actually taking a creative writing class right now, which should help in theory, but I think the fact that the professor seems to have a personal vendetta against me for no obvious reason is causing my muse to hide at really inconvenient times. Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter. :) I'm not promising anything regarding when I'll be able to post the next update. Hopefully the muse doesn't let me down, but she hasn't been very reliable lately... And happy Castle Day! :)**

* * *

><p>Lanie had been right, she wasn't asleep. She was sitting on top of the made bed, fully dressed, holding a book, much the way she'd been when he'd found her there the day before. "Hey," he said softly.<p>

She jumped and looked up at him. "Geez Castle, you scared me."

"Sorry." He took a step into the room and noticed that, for all the reading she'd apparently been doing, it really didn't look like she was in a much different place in her book than she'd been the day before. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Reading," she said. But she closed the book.

"Doesn't look like you're making much progress."

She shrugged. "Just… trying to take it all in."

He nodded. "You hungry? I was just grocery shopping, so there's all kinds of food in the kitchen now."

"Not really."

He frowned. "Come on. You've gotta eat something. I'll make coffee."

"I'm good, Castle. Really."

He walked the rest of the way into the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. "Okay, it's morning and you're turning down coffee." He gave her a little smile. "This is not normal."

She smiled a little as well. "It's not really morning anymore… but if you made coffee, I guess I wouldn't turn it down."

He nodded. "Then I will. How'd you sleep?"

She rolled her eyes. "Are you going to ask me that every morning?"

"Probably."

She shrugged. "I slept."

"But not well?"

She shrugged again, but whether she'd say it or not, he could see it on her face. The dark circles under her eyes, the unwillingness to look at him directly.

"You want to talk about anything?"

She shook her head. "No."

"You sure?"

She nodded.

"Okay, then I'm gonna go make coffee. Meet me in the kitchen in ten minutes." Maybe, he thought, if he didn't phrase it as a question, didn't give her the option, she really would.

She agreed, and his plan worked. Ten minutes later, he was handing her a cup of coffee fixed the way she liked it.

"Thanks," she said, taking it. "But why's it in a travel mug?"

He just picked up his own cup and smiled. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" she wanted to know. But she followed him.

"We're taking a walk." He led her onto the deck and down the path that led past the pool and to the beach.

"Where?"

"It doesn't matter where."

"I'm not wearing shoes."

"Neither am I. You don't need them to walk on a beach."

She rolled her eyes and took a few quick steps to catch up with him. "The pool's nice," she said. "I didn't really see that yesterday."

"Glad you like it." He slowed his pace, less insistent, more ambling, and walked out onto the sand. "It is nice," he agreed, "but it's got nothing on the ocean."

She smiled. "You like the ocean?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't like the ocean. I don't like the ocean at all. I _love_ the ocean. You stand its edge looking out on miles and miles of water, and it's the same water that touches Europe, Africa … every other continent in the world. You could go for a swim and end up nose-to-nose with a polar bear."

She raised an eyebrow. "Some swim."

"But you know what I mean, and that's my point." He walked up to the water so that the waves coming in just touched his toes. "I'm standing here, looking out. Maybe there's someone in… I don't know, France, just standing on a beach there looking out, right at me. The only thing separating us is all of this water, but it's hundreds, thousands of miles away… it just really makes you feel small."

She stood beside him and looked out at the water in much the same way. "So this French girl," she said without looking at him, "she's why you like the ocean so much?"

He turned to face her and nudged her shoulder playfully. "You are _completely_ missing the point."

She turned back to him and smirked. "Uh-huh."

"I never even said it was a girl."

"Come on Castle, do you think I just met you? Of course it's a girl."

"It's a _hypothetical _person! Gender makes no difference. Besides, all the people I care about are on my side of the water. I just like the concept."

"So how come this love of the ocean has never showed up in any of your books? Most of them take place in the city."

He shrugged. "I live in the city, it's what I know. And it's more personal, my thing with the ocean. It's not really something I've ever felt the need to share with the world." He started walking down the beach again, slowly, right at the water line. "What about you?" he asked. "Do you like it?"

"What, the ocean? Yeah, I guess. I've never really thought that much about it. It is pretty though." She looked down at the sand for a long moment as they walked. He thought she was avoiding making eye contact with him for some reason, but then he realized she was actually focused on the sand, almost like she was looking for something specific. "We used to collect seashells," she finally said. "My parents and I, when I was a little girl and we'd come to the beach. Every year we'd have a contest to see who could find the best one, the biggest or the nicest looking. My mom would take that one and write the year and who found it, usually on the inside somewhere, and she kept them all lined up on a shelf in our living room. I used to like to look at them. Some went back to before I was born." She nodded, still looking down, remembering. "And then we'd throw the rest of them back into the water for other people to find."

He smiled. "That's a great tradition."

She finally looked at him again. "We didn't go every year, my parents were usually busy with work… but when we did."

"It doesn't have to be every year to be a tradition."

He wasn't even sure if she heard that last remark. "I wish I knew where they were now," she mused. "I wonder if my dad still has them."

"I'm sure he does."

She shrugged. "He got rid of a lot."

There wasn't really much he could say to that. He didn't know her dad very well, so he had to assume that what Kate said was true. So he just kept walking wordlessly, down the beach beside her. After a long moment, he changed the subject. "So what have you been thinking about?"

She frowned. "What do you mean? Now?"

"No, not necessarily. Just… since we've gotten here. When you were in your room pretending to read."

"Who says I was pretending?"

"I saw that book, you could easily have finished it in a day, and it doesn't look like you've made any progress at all. Either you're paying _really_ close attention to detail, trying to decipher what kind of ink each letter was printed with, or you haven't really been reading it at all."

She just stared at him for a moment. Obviously he'd noticed something she'd hoped he wouldn't, and he wasn't sure what she'd do. He mentally ran through the possibilities. She might leave, turn around right there and go back to the house without another word. He would follow her. She might get angry, start yelling at him for not minding his own business. He would stand his ground and see the argument through until the end, taking the point of view opposite hers until she'd worked through all of her internal disagreements. She might just break down, all of her barriers so worn by the strain of holding everything inside that they burst. He would be there, with open arms and understanding ears, ready to comfort her by any means that he could.

He was ready for any of these, ready to take her cues and play his role, whatever that might be. But she still did nothing, nothing but stare at him without expression. The tension in the air was almost palpable, almost visible. It was unsettling, almost as if she was sizing him up, trying to determine whether she could take him. And the part that made it even more unsettling was that he was pretty sure she could.

"Everything," she finally said very softly, so that if he hadn't been paying such close attention he might not even have caught it.

"Everything?" he repeated. He stopped walking.

She nodded. "The past, the present, the future… everything."

"Come to any conclusions?"

She shook her head.

"None at all?"

She shrugged and turned back the way they'd come, walking at a very leisurely pace back toward the house.

"What about the future?" he finally asked as they started back up the stairs to the deck. "How do you see it?"

She sat down in one of the chairs and he took the one beside, angling it toward hers as he sat down. "You know," she finally said, "I can't really answer that. I've thought through more scenarios than even you could imagine."

But he wasn't sure that he could agree with that. "I don't know," he said, looking at her but not quite into her eyes. "I've thought through quite a few myself."

"I think…" she sighed, but then nodded. "I think the best conclusion I've come to stems from something you said to me when we first got here. I can't predict the future, so it's better just to try to focus on the present."

At this, he smiled. "I'll be right back." He got up from his chair but then turned to her, afraid that she'd disappear, go back into her room and hibernate while he was gone. "Don't move," he said sternly, using a voice much like he'd used on Alexis when she was younger.

She laughed at this – actually _laughed_ – and when he returned a moment later she was still in exactly the same place. He set the page he'd gone inside to get on the table, pen poised in his hand.

"What's that?" she asked, eyeing it warily.

"The list," he reminded her. "It's time we get back to it. What do you want to do while you're here?"

She shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Whatever."

"Holing up in your bedroom pretending to read isn't an option anymore."

She rolled her eyes. "This is stupid. You're all about spontaneity, aren't you? Why do I have to plan everything out?"

"Because I don't like the direction you're going without structure, so something needs to change."

"Well, I don't have anything specific that I want to do. I just want to relax and… forget. For awhile."

He nodded. "Good." He wrote the words "relax" and "forget" on the list, two separate bullet points.

She frowned. "That counts?"

"Absolutely. Is that all?"

"For now."

"Well, it's something." He pushed the list aside. "It's a beautiful day. What should we do?"

"Since when's it 'we'? I thought you were leaving me alone?"

"Yeah… not anymore. I told you, we're making changes."

"Changes that involve never letting me have another minute to myself?"

He almost faltered. He still felt sorry for her, and his impulse was to give her whatever she wanted, but he could still hear Lanie's voice in his head. _She hides… but what she really wants, what she really _needs_, is for someone to find her._ Now that he'd found her, he wasn't going to let her go back into hiding. He looked her directly in the eye, steady, unflinching. "Yes."

She held his eye contact for a second, trying, as she usually did, to break his resolve, but it fell short when she looked down at the table. She nodded. "Well then… okay."

He frowned. He'd expected at least some form of argument. "Okay?"

She began absently tracing patterns on the tabletop with her index finger. "It's your house, Castle," she said without looking up. "Your rules."

He almost wanted to argue just out of confusion, just because she wasn't arguing and he felt that someone should, but he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. "So," he repeated instead, "what should we do?"

She looked at him blankly. "What _can_ we do?"

He smiled. "Come on, Kate. This is the Hamptons. The land of infinite possibility, and the two weeks of infinite freedom. We can do anything you want."

"Well, I'm gonna at least need some suggestions."

He nodded. Suggestions, he could do. "Um… we could go swimming, in the pool or in the ocean if you want, although it's early in the year and it's probably pretty cold… We could watch a movie, either here or we could go out… there's a great theater not far from here, but it's such a beautiful day it would be nice to do something outside… We could just hang here, or I could give you a tour of the neighborhood… you haven't seen much outside of the house yet."

She stopped him here. "That sounds good. I'd like to see what else is around here."

"Perfect. Why don't you go grab us a couple of waters from the fridge, and then meet me down by the shed. I'll get out the bikes." He looked down at her bare feet. "I recommend shoes."

She frowned. "Bikes?"

"Well, that way we can cover more ground than if we walked, and see more than we would in the car." He smiled. "Plus it's fun."

She nodded. "Yeah, okay. You have one I can use?"

"Absolutely." He stood and started walking toward the stairs. "Meet me down there."

"Castle," she said, making him turn back toward her.

"What?"

"Where's the shed?"

He chuckled. "I didn't show you that yet? It's down near where the car's parked. You'll see it."

She nodded. "Okay." She forced a smile. "I'll meet you there."

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, I was nicer that time. Not too cliffhanger-y. :) Let me know what you thought! Like? Dislike? Want to see moreless of something? I really don't care what you say, just review! :)**


	6. Dreams

He was exhausted. Their earlier bike tour had lasted longer, covered more ground and required more pedaling than he'd expected, and more physical exertion by extension. Back at the house they'd ordered takeout and watched a movie, and then he'd gone in favor of his bedroom. It was still on the early side, so he'd left Kate in front of the TV even though she'd looked even more exhausted than he felt, but he was confident that tonight would be the night that she would finally get a good night's sleep. If she was half as tired as he was, he didn't see how she could avoid it.

He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but at some point during the night he woke up. He was prepared to roll over and fall back into the deep sleep he'd just come out of, but he heard voices.

They weren't voices in his head, an indication of insanity or some leftover from a half-formed dream; they were very real, concrete voices coming from somewhere outside the room but inside the house. He looked at the clock beside his bed. 3:28 a.m. Not really the time for visitors. Besides himself, there should only have been one other person in the house, and as far as he knew she hadn't taken up talking to herself. His still half-asleep mind immediately started racing, one thought dominant over all the others: _Kate._

That was the last thought through his mind that even vaguely resembled anything logical. Imagining masked intruders and trained assassins, he jumped out of bed and ran toward the voices. His only instinct was to protect her. Whether he actually could didn't cross his mind.

But the scene he met in the living room didn't even begin to resemble anything his half-dreaming imagination had conjured. It was just Kate, sitting on the couch just as he'd left her so many hours earlier, still watching TV. That was where the voices had come from.

"Hey Castle," she said with a tired smirk when he appeared in the room's entry, out of breath. Her voice was much too awake for the time of night.

He heaved a heavy sigh and dropped down onto the couch beside her. "_What_ are you still doing up?" he asked groggily.

"Watching TV," she answered matter-of-factly, without looking at him.

_"Why _are you watching TV?"

"Didn't feel like going to bed."

"Kate." He closed his eyes for considerably longer than a blink, unsure whether he was more tired or exasperated. When he opened them again he took the remote from the coffee table and turned the TV off.

"I was watching that!" she protested.

"You shouldn't be watching anything," he said, turning to face her directly. "You should be _sleeping_. You can't tell me you're not tired, I can see that you are. Go to bed."

"I don't want to!" She met his eyes for the first time since he'd sat down, and hers, though tired, were full of steely resolve.

But he didn't understand. "Why not?"

"Because when I sleep, I dream, and I'm tired of dreaming. It's like you said, I need to focus on the present, _now, _and I can't do that when I'm asleep. I can't control what I see, or what I think about, or what happens…" Her eyes began to fill with tears that he had a feeling she also couldn't control.

Of that whole speech, he found himself focusing on one particular line. _It's like you said._ This was his fault. It was his fault that she was sitting here in his living room at three-thirty in the morning, afraid to sleep. Because whether she came out and said it or not, that was the truth of the matter: she was afraid to fall asleep. It was his fault, and now it was up to him to fix it. "Look… I know what I said, but that's not how I meant it. You don't have to control everything all the time, you _can't_ control everything all the time. If your dreams take you to the past or to the future, then that's where they take you. But you have to sleep." His expression turned pleading.

But she was still being stubborn. "I don't want to."

"Okay, there are some things in life that aren't optional. Sleeping is one of them. Eating. Breathing. These are all things you can't just stop doing because you're not in the mood. It's called life. Accept it."

"Castle, I know what I'm going to see the second I close my eyes. That man, that arrogant son of a bitch that ordered the hit on my mother. My mom telling me I let her down for not killing him when I had the chance. Montgomery telling me I let him down by _not_ backing off, by going against orders. That asshole getting back out on the streets. Some judge suspending my badge indefinitely." Tears clung to her eyelashes now, but she refused to let them fall. "I don't want to see that."

He felt himself soften. He hated seeing her this upset, hated it with every fiber of his being. "So don't think about that stuff when you're falling asleep. Think about… puppies. Sunshine. Rainbows. The beach." Normally he'd have come up with better, but he was tired.

She shook her head. "It's not that easy. I can push it off during the day, but all of that stuff is always in the back of my mind… I can't get rid of it. No matter what I do."

An idea occurred to him then. He didn't know if it would help or not, but it was all that he could come up with. And he knew instinctively that it would be more likely to be successful if he didn't actually pitch it to her. "Okay," he said, standing up. "Come on."

She hesitated, but followed him. "Where are we going?"

"We're relocating." He led her toward the hallway where the bedrooms were.

"What does _that_ mean?"

He opened the door to one of the two extra bedrooms, specifically the one that contained two double beds. "We're going to sleep in here tonight." He picked a bed arbitrarily and sat down on it. "You take the other one."

"What in the world makes you think I would _ever_ do that?"

He sighed. "Come on. They're two different beds, it's just the same room. It's completely innocent. You need sleep. _I_ need sleep. And I'm not going to get any sleep until I know you're sleeping."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Look, I don't care if that makes any sense or not. It's four in the morning, I'm tired. I know you are too. This way if you find that you've woken up from some kind of horrible dream and you need to talk, all you have to do is wake me up and I'll be right here. And if you're tossing and turning or talking in your sleep, I'll wake you up." He yawned. "Deal?"

She hesitated.

"For me?" he coaxed.

She sighed and pulled back the comforter on the other bed. "Just so you'll be quiet and go back to sleep," she assured him.

He nodded. "Fine with me." It was much too late an hour for him to be concerned with her reasons. All he cared about was that she agreed. He got up to turn out the lights after she slid under the blankets and then did the same himself. "Sweet dreams," he murmured as he positioned his head comfortably on the pillow.

She sighed. "Night, Castle."

* * *

><p>He didn't know what time it was the next time he woke up, but he didn't feel as though he'd been asleep for long. And he had absolutely no idea why he'd woken up until he heard a strangled but distinct moan come from Kate's side of the room. "I can't," he heard her protest with the muffled inarticulacy of someone who was still fully asleep. "I <em>can't!"<em>

Before he knew what he was doing he was sitting on the bed beside her with his hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he murmured softly, trying not to jolt her from her dreams with too much violence. "Shh, Kate, it's okay."

"No!" Her eyes were still closed, but he wasn't sure if she was still asleep. "Get _off_ me!" He pulled his hand back quickly, but it became apparent then that she was, in fact, still dreaming. "'m gonna get him! Lemme get him!"

"Shh." Somehow he ended up with one hand back on her shoulder and the other stoking her hair. "Wake up. It's okay. You're here, in the Hamptons, remember?"

Her yells deteriorated into moans and then became sobs, all in the space of about a minute.

"I'm here. Shh, it's okay. I'm right here."

Finally she opened her eyes, although she had to blink them closed again to wipe away the tears. She pulled herself into a sitting position and he backed off, suddenly embarrassed that he'd been touching her in such a familiar way. "Castle," she mumbled. She wiped away the tears that remained with the bed's sheet. "Sorry."

"Quite alright." He could feel the worry pulling at his face. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"You want to talk about anything?"

She shook her head.

"You sure?"

She nodded again.

"Okay. If you change your mind, you know where to find me." He delicately brushed a lock of her hair away from her face. She didn't push him away. "Sleep well."

She pushed the corner of her lip up in a way that could almost have been a very halfhearted attempt at a smile. "I'll try."

* * *

><p>It took him a lot longer to fall asleep again after that. He couldn't turn off his mind, worrying about Kate, wondering what she was really feeling, how much lurked beneath the surface that she refused to share with him, trying to figure out how to really get her to open up, and whether that was even the best thing. Maybe she was right, maybe it would be best for her to simply try and forget. But finally he heard the slow, even breathing from her side of the room that told him she was asleep, and not long after that he fell asleep as well.<p>

The next time he woke up he'd been asleep for much longer, at least a couple of hours. And this time he was woken a lot more intentionally.

This time he woke up to find her sitting on the edge of his bed, shaking him gently. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, made less complete by the light streaming in around the closed mini blinds, he saw that her face was once again tearstained, an image forever in his mind that he wished would stop being reinforced. "Hey," he said, pulling himself up so that he was sitting, facing her. "What's up?"

"I let her down," she whispered, her voice thick with tears.

She didn't need to explain who, he understood. What he didn't understand was what in the world she was talking about. "What? How? You caught her killer."

"Yeah, but… what if he gets off? What if he gets a really good lawyer and is found not guilty? Then what did I accomplish? I'll lose my badge without getting anything out of it."

"You did everything you could," he insisted. "You caught the killer, and found some good evidence. Whatever happens now is out of your hands. You just have to have a little faith in the legal system. I imagine your mom did, she was a lawyer."

"She had _no_ faith in the legal system. She hated other lawyers. She said they were all driven by paychecks instead of the truth." She sighed. "I wish _she _was here to prosecute her killer."

"Wow… talk about a conflict of interest."

She took a pillow off his bed and threw it at him. "Shut up."

He smiled over the pillow. "Okay, you wake me up and then tell me to shut up. What gives?"

She looked down, suddenly fascinated by the patterns on the comforter. "Sorry. I shouldn't have."

"No, that's not what I meant. I don't mind. Really. I'm glad you did."

She rolled her eyes but met his. "So now neither one of us is sleeping."

He shook his head. "Come here."

She frowned. "I'm… here."

"No." He moved closer to her. "Come _here_." He wrapped one arm around her, and when she didn't resist he did the same with the other arm, pulling her into a complete hug. Eventually he felt her hands touch his back tentatively. "It's gonna be okay," he said. "I don't know what's gonna happen, but one way or another it will be okay." He pulled away and looked into her eyes. "I promise."

She looked back at him intently. "You can't promise that."

He nodded. "I just did. And it's a promise I intend to keep."

"I'm glad you're here," she whispered.

He smiled. "Well, it is my house."

"Then… I'm glad I'm here."

"I'm glad you're here too." He squeezed her shoulder gently. "Better go back to sleep now. No more dreams, okay?"

"No more dreams."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Wow. I was not expecting to have another update ready for you so soon, but I did! And I actually really like the way this one turned out. A little short, but I think there's a lot going on, so it seems to work. Hopefully you agree! Thanks for reading! :)  
><strong>


	7. Partners

She didn't have any more dreams, or if she did he didn't wake up to hear about them. She was still asleep when he woke up, as he'd expected. He'd gotten more sleep than she had, but the previous night had been exhausting even for him. It was later than usual when he finally managed to pull himself out of bed, but as soon as he did he looked over to Kate's side of the room. She was lying on her side facing him, so he could easily see that her eyes were closed and her chest was rising and falling heavily. There was no doubt that she was still, in fact, asleep.

He went back to the bedroom where his things still were and got dressed, and then he went to the kitchen and started making coffee. He arranged a small assortment of muffins on a plate and set it on the counter, and then milled about the kitchen fairly aimlessly while waiting for the coffee to brew. When it had finished, he filled a mug for himself, left an empty one beside the pot, and went outside to sit on the deck.

Out of habit, he sat down in the chair nearest the porch rail and gazed out into the ocean as he sipped his coffee. Today, he noted, the water was different than he'd seen it since they'd arrived here. It was unsettled. Darker in color, and churning nervously as though waiting for a cue from some outside source, someone to tell it what to do. Should it clear up, flatten out like a sheet pulled taut and glisten in the sunlight? Or should it wrinkle even further, tossing and turning uneasily throughout the rest of the day?

He followed his beloved ocean out to the horizon line and allowed his gaze to make the natural transition to the sky. Like the ocean, it was a dark gray. The clouds were full, threatening rain that hadn't yet come. He marveled at the way, out here, the water and the sky seemed to come together. In the city, the sky held all the authority. It made its decisions and did what it wanted without waiting for input from any outside source. But here it seemed that the sky and the ocean were engaged in a sort of partnership. Although the ocean waited for a cue from the sky, this was the ocean's territory, and the sky wasn't quite willing to do anything without its permission. So the two entities engaged in a kind of symbiotic dance. The clouds moved according to the water, rolling and churning with the waves. When the sky darkened, so did the water. When the sky started to clear, the water started to settle. When the waves picked up, the clouds seemed to multiply.

He didn't know how long he sat there, sipping his coffee and watching the ocean watch the sky; the sky watch the ocean. He so was inspired by the mutual inspiration that the minutes melted into one another and time seemed to become an abstract concept with no real meaning. But he was snapped out of his trance-like state when he heard the screen door open behind him.

He watched with a small smile echoing hers as she emerged on the deck with a full mug of coffee in one hand and two muffins in the other. She had some difficulty balancing everything as she tried to close the door, so he got up and took the coffee from her without a word. "Thanks," she murmured.

She followed him back to where he'd been sitting and pulled up a chair next to where he'd put his, so close beside his, in fact, that when she sat down their arms nearly touched. "Trade you," she offered, holding up a muffin while she waited for her coffee.

He nodded. "Sure." He passed her the mug and accepted the muffin.

"What were you doing out here?" She sipped her coffee while she waited for his answer.

He shrugged. "Just… watching."

She nodded as if she understood, and sipped her coffee again. "Look, I'm… sorry about last night," she finally said.

"Sorry?" he repeated, uncomprehending. "For what?"

"I woke you up, like three times."

He waved her off. "Two of them weren't on purpose."

"But the last time was. I really shouldn't have done that. I don't need to make my problems yours."

"I don't mind," he insisted. "Really. That's why I'm here."

But she shook her head. "It's too much. That you're here, with me, away from your family… it's too much. We should go home. Soon. Today."

He fiddled with his muffin, skillfully removing the top in one Frisbee-shaped piece. "And do what?" he finally asked.

She shrugged. "You go back to your life. I'll go back to what's left of mine."

He shook his head without looking up, biting back irritation that she'd even suggested that. "Forget it."

"I can't. This isn't right. I can't just ask you to put your life on hold for me."

Finally he lifted his head and looked at her. When she'd started this conversation he'd been a little annoyed. Now he was decidedly aggravated. "You didn't ask that," he reminded her gravely. "You didn't ask me to come here, I asked you. I also asked you to wake me up last night if you needed to talk. Do not be _sorry_ for doing what I asked. And I'm not putting my life on hold for you. Guess what? This is my life. You're in it. Whether you like it or not, you are my friend, my partner, and I care about what happens to you. I care that you're okay, and if you're not and there's something, anything, that I can do to help, the best thing you can possibly do for me is to let me do it. That isn't bothering me. Bothering me is when you're hurting and you won't let me help. That's what bothers me." He took an angry bite of his decapitated muffin's top, as though sealing his speech.

She didn't say anything for a long moment. Neither did he. He'd said everything he needed to say. Now it was her turn.

For awhile she just sat there staring at the horizon and sipping her coffee, much like he'd been doing before she came out. He finished off his muffin top and was just about to move on to the bottom when she looked at him. "Looks like it's gonna rain," she observed.

For a second he was thrown off. He'd been preparing himself for her response, whatever it was, getting himself ready to fight if need be, and she'd chosen not to respond at all. But he soon decided that as long as she was dropping her argument, he didn't care if they continued to discuss it. In fact, it might have been better that they didn't. He looked up at the sky as if he hadn't memorized all the cloud patterns before she'd come out. They'd changed slightly, but looked just as threatening as ever. "It does, doesn't it?"

"So… we should probably do something inside today."

He felt the corners of his lips twitch upward, aware that, in her way, she'd just agreed to stay and drop the argument. She wouldn't say it, and he wouldn't flaunt it, but he'd won. "Well," he said instead, "I don't know about you, but I'm a little tired today. I don't really feel like going out anywhere." He was telling the truth, he was a little tired, but mostly he'd said that because he'd read the exhaustion on her face: the relative pallor of her complexion, the shadows that were still beneath her eyes.

"I'm with you," she granted.

"Good. So, what do you say to a movie marathon day?"

She raised an eyebrow. "A what?"

"Movie marathon day," he repeated. "We'll make popcorn, we'll order in for all our meals, and we'll take turns picking our favorite movies to Netflix."

She smiled. "Sounds fun."

"Oh, it will be. You haven't lived until you've experienced a Castle-style rainy day movie marathon. You'll love it."

"Will I?"

"You will." He finished off his muffin in two final bites.

"So when do we start this marathon?"

"It doesn't matter. Now, if you want."

She swirled her coffee. "Can I finish this first?"

"Absolutely."

She stared into her coffee cup for a long moment, carefully studying the brown liquid. "Thanks," she finally told it, a little stiffly, spitting out the word. "For… being here for me. Whether… whether it seems like I want you to be or not."

He raised his eyebrows and looked at her with mock condescension, like a schoolteacher would look at a young pupil. "Kate, your coffee will always be there for you," he explained. "Unless you drink it all. But then you can make more."

She looked up at him sideways, half-smiling. "I wasn't talking to the coffee."

"_Oh_." He feigned shock. "Well, it certainly looked like you were talking to the coffee, but if you say you weren't…" He smiled as she rolled her eyes, and he allowed his tone to soften. "You're welcome."

* * *

><p>He got up during the second movie to make more popcorn. While it popped, he found himself staring out the large picture window. The dynamic out there had changed. The sky had finally let loose. Everything it had been holding back now cascaded down in sheets to meet the earth, the sand, the sea.<p>

Something about the rain seemed to bring the sky down closer to the water, or maybe it was bringing the water up to meet the sky. Either way they seemed even closer than they'd been before, each even more easily altered by any motion at all from the other. Each tear shed by the sky left an indentation on the water's surface before it was absorbed, never to be seen again.

The ocean seemed to cradle the sky in the way that nothing else could. Blacktop rejected the raindrops, refusing to take them in, or, worse, deflecting them back up toward the sky. Dirt mixed with them, creating a mess. Sand just let them fall, not even seeming to notice. But the water… the water was sympathetic. The water cared.

Some might say that the ocean and the sky operated on two totally separate planes, living two lives that never intersected, but he knew how wrong this was. The ocean was the sky's partner. The sky couldn't do anything without affecting the ocean directly—the pull of the tides, the size of the waves—and when the sky was ready to let go, to lash out in anger or pour down in sadness, the ocean could always be counted on to absorb the blow, to share in and eventually dissipate the sky's every trouble.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I'm changing it up, trying to just put the author's notes at the end of each chapter instead of the beginning and the end... usually I don't have anything to say that's important enough that I really need to tell you before you read, anyway. :) In fact... usually I don't have anything all that important to tell you anyway, I just enjoy my blabbering and I'm not willing to give it up.<strong>

**So this chapter sort of took I direction I didn't exactly intend... which is good, because before I started writing it I really had no idea what it was going to be about. I know it's short, but I feel like there's a lot here, so short might be okay. The ocean/sky metaphor is the part I didn't exactly intend... it kind of snuck up on me while I was writing, and I figured it could work and just went with it. I think I probably already stretched it a bit far, but if I know anything about the way I write (which I certainly hope I do... because if I don't, I have no idea who the hell does...) I would suspect that it will be back again before too long. When I come up with a metaphor I like, I tend to kill it and then beat its carcass until it cries out in pain. Which it will, eventually. I'm just that good. And THAT is a disturbing metaphor which I hopefully will never go near again. A metaphor about metaphors? Isn't that a bit excessive? On that note, moving on...**

**I need to dial back the angst in this story a bit. I'm aware, and I'm working on it. I'm planning an excessively fluffy chapter soon, if not the next chapter then probably the one after that. So you can look forward to that in the future. However, there will be more angst as well, which you can probably tell from what has and hasn't happened already. Mostly, I'm just trying to keep it balanced.  
><strong>

**I will now proceed to post this, finish my homework and go to class. Hopefully when I get back later tonight I'll have a nice little pile of reviews waiting for me (hint, hint?). That would be an awesome way to finish off the day. :) Thanks for reading, as always!  
><strong>


	8. Waves

**A/N: Remember that fluffy chapter I promised? It's he-ere. And it's a little longer than these chapters have been lately, which could be a good thing. Enjoy! We'll talk later.**

* * *

><p>Castle woke up the next morning feeling like the nine-year-old on a sugar rush that Kate had once accused him of being. Ever since he'd had the idea for what to do today, he'd hardly been able to think of anything else.<p>

He'd slept well, and as far as he knew, so had Kate. She was still sound asleep when he got up, so was careful to leave the room noiselessly. She'd slept through bits of some of the movies the day before, which to be honest was part of the reason he'd suggested a movie day, so he was fairly confident that she would be awake soon, but still he didn't want to wake her up before she was ready. He knew she had a lot of catching up to do.

But now that he was awake and the plans for later were solidified, he was so excited that he felt like he was bouncing around the house. He started brewing coffee out of some combination of habit and the fact that he was sure Kate would want it when she got up, but he certainly didn't need the energy boost.

He walked out onto the deck and looked across the water. The conditions were exactly as he'd hoped they'd be. All evidence of the previous day's rain was gone. The sun was shining, the air warm, and the water just slightly windblown. This increased his excitement even more.

He leaned against the porch rail as he tried to decide what to tell Kate. Should he fill her in on the plan, or let it be a surprise? He wanted to surprise her, but first he decided to see how she was feeling. If she was in a disagreeable mood, he realized he might have to tell her what they were doing to convince her to go along with it. He was sure of one thing, though. She would love it.

After coming to this conclusion he went inside to check the coffee, not because there was any actual reason that he needed to check it, but because he wanted something to do. He was pleasantly surprised when he found Kate there filling a coffee mug. "Good morning," he greeted her brightly.

She smiled tiredly. "Morning."

He felt concern instantly wash over his face. Kate was one of two people in the world who could take him from exalted to worried so quickly, and the other was his daughter. "Did you sleep okay?" he asked. "You look tired."

She looked up from the task of pouring cream into her coffee and smiled at him again, this time a little patronizing. "I slept fine. Better than I have in a long time. I just haven't had my coffee yet."

"Ah." He grinned. It was possible he'd gotten so used to the broken version of Kate he'd been with for almost a week now that he was starting to forget how she usually was. That wasn't good. How was he going to help her get back to normal if he was no longer sure what normal was? _Yes_, he reminded himself. _She does always look tired before she has coffee in the mornings._ "Well, I'm glad."

She leaned against the counter and took her first sip of coffee. "Me too."

He tried to quell the excitement that was welling back up inside of him, but some of it seemed to bubble over. "Big plans for today," he heard himself say. "I hope you're ready."

"Oh? What kind of plans?"

"You'll just have to wait and see."

"How will I know if I'm ready if I don't know what the plans are?"

"Huh." She had a point. "I guess you won't."

"What if I don't want to do whatever it is?"

He smiled. "You will."

"How do you know?"

"I know. Don't you trust me?"

She raised her eyebrows. "With _that_ look on your face? Not at all."

"Excellent. Great place to start. We have to be there by twelve, so be ready by… eleven-thirty."

"Be _where?"_

"Nice try."

"Well, how do I know what I have to be ready for if you won't tell me where we're going?"

"You're gonna want to wear a bathing suit under your clothes. And that is as much information as you're getting."

She frowned. "So we're going swimming?"

"No. Did I not say that's all you're getting?"

"Are you forgetting that I make people tell me things they don't want to tell me for a living?" Her face fell as soon as it was out of her mouth. "Made," she corrected herself softly.

He internally sighed. This was all he needed. A reminder of why they were really here to dampen her spirits and darken the mood of the day. But he could do it. He could bring her back up. That was the point of what he'd arranged for today anyway, wasn't it? To distract her, to do something that would make her genuinely happy, at least for a little while? "It's still who you are," he reminded her. "That doesn't just go away."

She rolled her eyes with something a little bit deeper than her usual exaggerated annoyance. "Then why can't I get you to tell me where we're going?"

Oh, she was good. Making him feel sorry for her so he felt that he had to tell her? That was admirable. He didn't believe it had been entirely intentional, but nevertheless, she was good. But he wouldn't break. He was going to surprise her, dammit. "It's no reflection on you," he assured her. "I'm just that good."

The beginnings of a grin were spreading across her face. "Oh, please. You would fold like a road map if I used the right ammunition."

He raised his eyebrows. "Why Kate Beckett, that sounds suspiciously like a challenge."

She shrugged. "Maybe it is."

"I'm not going to tell you," he insisted. "It'll be a surprise. Trust me, it'll be better that way."

"Something that you say I'll like…" she said, evidently trying to guess. "And from how excited you are, I'm guessing it's something you'll like too, and something I'll need to wear a bathing suit for…"

"Can't you just let it be a surprise?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Afraid I'll figure it out?"

"To be honest, yes. I will never underestimate your detective skills." He flinched as soon as he heard the "d" word leave his mouth. One step forward, two steps back.

She flinched as well, but thankfully didn't react further than that. "Okay," she agreed. "I'll let it be a surprise."

He smiled. Maybe she was making more progress than he'd realized. "Good."

* * *

><p>"This is somebody's house," Kate asserted when he parked the car outside of a place that was just a little more modest than Castle's.<p>

He nodded. "Very good."

"What are we doing here?"

"A friend of mine lives here."

"And we're… visiting?"

"Nope." He led her to the door and rang the bell.

"Then what the hell are we doing here?" she muttered.

Before he could give her the evasive answer his mind had started formulating, a man in a Hawaiian shirt who looked to be somewhere in his forties answered the door. "Hey Rick," he greeted him. "Good to see you again."

"You too, Steve." He shook the man's hand in greeting. "This is my friend Kate," he introduced her. "We're all set."

Steve beamed. "Great." He stepped outside and started leading them around the back of the house. "The jet ski's all ready for you. The tank's full, just keep half an eye on the gauge and make sure you have it back before it hits E."

"Good man, Steve." Grinning, Rick turned to Kate for her reaction.

Her eyes had widened comically. Clearly he'd been successful in surprising her. "Jet ski?" she mouthed to him.

He nodded and let Steve lead them to the back of his house, which was significantly different than Castle's. Castle's property was right on the beach. Here there was grass that led the whole way from the house to a boardwalk a few feet above the water line, at least the way the tide was now. A sea wall separated the water from the houses, and behind Steve's house a dock jutted out into the water. Tied to the dock was a green and black Sea-Doo, so well taken care of that it appeared new, the gel coat gleaming in the sun. "You've done this before, right Rick?" Steve asked.

"Oh yeah, a couple times. But why don't you go over everything again for Kate here?"

Steve agreed and quickly went over the controls and what they all did. Then he fitted each of them with a black neoprene life jacket and patted the jet ski fondly. "Take care of my baby, okay Rick? Oh, who am I kidding? You're Rick Castle! You're a responsible guy. I'm sure it'll be fine. You got a perfect day for it. Have fun out there." With that he waved and left them on the dock.

As soon as Steve was out of earshot, Kate cocked her head at Castle. "Has he _met_ you?"

Castle smiled. "Once. At a book signing I did here a couple of years ago. He's a fan."

She smirked. "I never would've guessed."

He ignored this comment. "He told me if I ever wanted to borrow his jet ski to give him a call. Alexis and her friends have ridden it a few times, so I assume he's basing his information about my responsibility on what he knows about my teenage daughter."

Kate nodded. "Now that makes a little more sense."

"Okay," he said as he sat at the front of the Sea-Doo, careful not to tip it. "Are you gonna continue to make fun of me, or are you gonna get on?"

Still smirking, she sat down behind him. She left a good amount of space between them and held firmly onto the handle behind her seat. "Alright, let's go."

He pushed the lever in the direction that made it go forward, just as Steve had showed him, and allowed himself to float a few feet away from the dock. "You ready?" he asked.

"Ready," she affirmed.

He squeezed the throttle with his thumb, and they rocketed forward with a stomach-lurching jerk. He screamed in a voice a lot more high-pitched than he would've liked and let go of the throttle. By the time they jerked to a stop again, Kate's body was right up against his, her arms wrapped tightly around him. He silently cursed his bulky life jacket.

When he was confident that the jet ski wasn't going to move any more without his consent, he turned around, laughing. Kate let go quickly, her cheeks pink. "Castle, what the hell!" But the edge was taken off of her scold by the fact that she was beaming. "Are you trying to kill us?"

"No, not trying," he laughed. "That just happened a lot quicker than I thought it would."

"I thought you said you'd done this before!"

He shrugged. "I'm a compulsive liar."

She hit his back with a good amount of force, but his life jacket absorbed most of the blow. "You're a compulsive idiot!"

"Okay, maybe, but you have to admit that was kind of fun."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, but it'll be more fun when we actually go somewhere. And you _are_ letting me drive later."

He nodded. "Aye aye, captain. Alright, let's try this again. You ready?"

This time she took hold of his life jacket strap with one hand and the handle behind her with the other. "Yeah. Let's go."

He squeezed the throttle again, this time very lightly at first, gradually increasing the pressure as they picked up speed. He dodged the waves at first, trying to run between them, but he soon discovered that hitting them a little harder made Kate tighten her hold on his jacket, so he started aiming for the waves, trying to overcome the instinct to let go of the throttle when they soared up into the air. He made sure to stay within sight of the dock, having no interest in getting lost at sea on a tiny boat, but there was plenty of water to play with here. Steve had been right, the conditions were perfect.

Kate was laughing behind him the whole time, which made the experience even more fun. It felt good to hear her laugh. She'd been unhappy for too long. He'd thought she'd like this, thought it would be good for her, but he hadn't realized she'd like it this much. When he finally stopped and turned around, it was partly because he wanted to give her a chance to drive, and partly because he just wanted to see her face.

He wasn't disappointed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her so happy, if he ever had. "What do you think?" he asked, beaming as well. "Good idea?"

"Awesome. Can I drive for awhile?"

He nodded. "Absolutely." They fumbled over each other a bit as they tried to switch seats without tipping over, but the Sea-Doo proved surprisingly stable. While a bit graceless, everything stayed upright.

He understood Kate's dilemma about where to hold on once he was in her seat. There was a handle behind him, but holding onto that was a little awkward and didn't feel so stable. The only thing in front of him was Kate. He ended up doing something similar to what she'd done and held on to the handle with one hand and her life jacket with the other.

"You set?" she asked after giving him a few minutes to figure everything out.

"Yep. Let's go."

Apparently having learned from his earlier mistake, she started off easily, and made the transition from not moving to moving pretty fast with a smoothness that he hadn't managed to achieve the whole time he'd been driving. He'd felt like the jet ski had handled a little jerkily, but this didn't seem to be a problem for Kate. She maneuvered it through the water effortlessly, jumping waves and heading away from the dock toward the open ocean as soon as she started driving. She drove faster, more recklessly than he had, but also with more skill, as though she'd been doing it her whole life. Even the way they splashed back down to the surface after hitting a wave seemed softer, more controlled. All in all, it was a better ride.

But after they'd been going for awhile he started to grow a little uneasy, a feeling he didn't enjoy growing in the pit of his stomach. He turned around and could barely see the shore, let alone the dock. With each wave they crested the feeling grew stronger, until he felt compelled to poke the back of Kate's life jacket. "Hey," he yelled to her over the low hum of the engine and the crash of the waves around them. "You think we should turn around?"

"We still have plenty of gas," she called back.

"I'm not worried about the gas, I'm worried about the fact that I can't even see the dock anymore."

She slowed down a little and grinned. "I won't get lost."

They hit another wave and his stomach did a back flip. "Seriously. Can we go back?"

Apparently having heard the seriousness in his voice, she stopped the jet ski and turned around to face him. She frowned when she saw his face. "You okay?"

They drifted over another wave, smoothly this time, but still unpleasantly, and his stomach churned. He swallowed hard. "I've been better."

Realization crossed her face with a mocking smile. "Oh my god. You're seasick. I thought you were Mr. 'I love the ocean'?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I thought so too." At this particular moment, his love for it wasn't at an all-time high.

"My driving a little too intense for you?" she teased.

They rolled over yet another wave and he didn't quite manage to hold back a whimper. He didn't answer, as it was taking everything he had to ensure that the sandwich he'd eaten on the way here didn't make another appearance in a much less pleasant form.

She frowned and nodded, becoming serious. "Okay, we'll go back."

"Thank you," he managed to sigh.

"You wanna drive?"

All he could do was shake his head. That was not going to work.

"Okay, I'll try to go easy," she assured him. "You'll be okay." She turned back to the handlebars and prepared to start moving again. "Ready?"

Not sure he could handle the slightly awkward somewhat-sideways position he'd been in a minute ago, he held on solely to Kate's jacket. "Ready," he echoed.

She really did take it easy, keeping the speed significantly slower than she'd been going before and trying to skirt between the waves as well as she could. As far as that went, there was only so much she could do, but he could tell she was trying. At this point he wasn't sure it helped, because even the slightest movement sent his stomach lurching all over again, but it meant something that she tried. But unfortunately the slower speed made the trip take longer, and to him it felt like an eternity before they were even back in view of the dock.

He had no memory of how or when it had happened, but he was vaguely aware that his forehead was resting on Kate's back as they drifted toward shore again. "Get back on land," she instructed when they were close enough for him to step onto the dock. "I can tie it up myself."

"You sure?" he moaned.

"Rick, go."

He stepped onto the dock, feeling vaguely like he was in a dream, and stumbled down the gently rocking planks of wood and onto the grass. He took a few deep breaths, more appreciative of the firm ground beneath his feet than he could remember ever being before. He started watching Kate tie the jet ski up exactly like Steve had left it, but even as she did this it was rocking with the waves, and he soon had to look away.

Trying to quell the nausea he could still feel, he ended up turning completely away from the water, so that when Kate was done she came up behind him. "Feeling any better?" she asked.

He nodded. "Solid ground helps."

She chuckled. "You know you still have your life jacket on?"

"Oh, right." He took it off, exposing his bare chest to the late-spring ocean breeze, and tossed it over toward the dock. Then he found himself staring at the deep v-neckline of Kate's black one-piece.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I see you're feeling better."

"Hey, I'm sick, not blind."

"Mm." She smiled and shook her head. "You're gonna be just fine." The way she said it he wasn't sure if she was reassuring him or herself. "You made me a little nervous back there," she told him. "You should've seen your face. It was completely white. Looked like a ghost."

He looked down at his feet guiltily. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. And I didn't mean to cut the ride short. You should go back out without me. I know you were having fun."

She shrugged. "Nah, that's okay. I had enough."

"Are you lying to me to make me feel better?"

"You'll never know."

He chuckled. "Okay, back to the car?"

"Back to the car." She smirked. "What do you say we stop at that place that keeps advertising the two-pound buckets of chili cheese fries on the way home?"

He groaned and backhanded her shoulder. "Evil, evil woman."

* * *

><p><strong>Random background information that you don't need but I feel like sharing anyway: We rented jet skis on a family vacation over the summer. It was on a lake, not the ocean, so it was a bit different... I've never actually been on a jet ski in the ocean, so I tried to let my imagination fill in the gaps... but that was actually when I got the idea for this story. I'd written the beginning (the earlier draft... when I knew Beckett had lost her badge but I didn't know what was going to happen after that...), but it wasn't until I was sitting on the back of a jet ski with my sister driving that I decided I would love it if Castle and Beckett were on a jet ski together. And of course I started brainstorming ways that I could make that happen in a fanfic, and I thought of the Hamptons... and the current version of this story (in idea form, anyway) was born. So I've basically had this chapter floating around in my head since the end of July. It only took me... two and a half months to write it? Hopefully I did it justice. I have a feeling the idea in my head was a bit more epic than the chapter ended up being... but it was still quite a fun chapter to write.<br>**

**So apparently in this chapter I decided to take a little break from torturing Beckett and torture Castle instead. Apparently he had it coming. Yet another twist that I didn't see coming until I wrote it... but hey, whatever. This story really seems to have its own opinions about where it wants to go. I try to give it directions, and it just laughs at me turns down some awkward back road that actually turns out to be quite scenic, and leads in the same general direction anyway. (Yet another screwy metaphor that worked it's way into my A/N... I should start writing these down. I guess I do, technically.) Anyway, for the record, I didn't just make Castle seasick for irony's sake... although I admit that the irony definitely wasn't a turn off. There is a method to my madness, and you'll find that out soon enough. :)**

**See that review button at the bottom of the page? If you click it, type something really nice, and hit submit, a cookie will come out of your computer screen. The better the review, the bigger the cookie. I kid you not.**

**Okay... maybe I kid you a little. Or maybe not. How will you know for sure until you try it? :) Regardless, thanks for reading! You're awesome.**


	9. Being There

He rolled over without opening his eyes. He sensed that it was morning, but he didn't want to get up yet, mostly just because he was comfortable.

But when his hand bumped something solid that most certainly had not been in his bed when he'd fallen asleep, he had no choice but to open his eyes. It was, he quickly deduced, a cloth-covered leg. With his eyes he followed it up to a body and finally a face, a very beautiful face that was looking at him.

"Hey," he said sleepily. "What are you doing over here?"

She brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Nothing," she said, her cheeks going a little pink. "Sorry. Did I wake you up?"

"No, I was waking up anyway." With some effort, he pulled himself up into a seated position. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I'm good."

"Good." But he was puzzled. She didn't look upset. In fact, she was acting like he woke up every morning to find her seated on the edge of his bed. While he would have no problem with that being true… it wasn't. "Okay, don't get me wrong," he started, "this isn't an entirely unpleasant way to wake up, but uh… what are you doing over here?"

"Just… sitting. Hanging out."

This response did nothing to allay his confusion. "Why?"

"Because… you're here."

He yawned. "I think I might need coffee if I want to make any sense of this conversation."

"Sometimes…" she began, "sometimes I think I take you for granted."

He frowned, unsure how to respond to that. "Well… I'm here. I'm granted."

"Yeah, but you don't have to be. If it wasn't for that first case, if that killer had picked another writer to copy, I might never have even met you. You'd always just be that writer I admired from afar."

His mouth twisted into a grin. "Admired?"

But she ignored him, going on talking. "But now here you are, trying to make sure I don't fall completely off the face of the earth, letting me stay at your place and doing things you think I'll like, even if they literally make you sick…"

He laughed, interrupting her. "Hey, I didn't know that was going to happen. I was excited too, if you'll remember."

She smiled. "I know, you were. I feel bad that it ended the way it did."

He raised his eyebrows. "It wasn't your fault."

"It might've been my driving… I was going faster than you were, and right into the waves…"

"It wasn't your driving," he interrupted her. "Your driving was… awesome. Had you done that before?"

She shook her head. "First time. But it's kind of like a motorcycle for the water… so I guess I caught on."

"You're a quick learner."

She nodded in pleased acknowledgement. "You feeling better today?"

He shrugged her off. "I was feeling fine last night."

"You still didn't eat much."

"Since when is it your job to keep track of how much I eat?"

"Since when is it _your_ job to keep track of how much I sleep? And eat? And read?"

He smiled. "Touché." But he sensed the direction in which she seemed to be steering the conversation, and he didn't want to go there again. "But we've been through this. I don't mind."

To his surprise, she nodded. "I know you don't. That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying… that I care about you too. And sometimes I don't think I do a very good job of letting you know that."

He was taken aback by this direction change. He definitely hadn't been expecting it. "Where is this coming from?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Nowhere. I was just thinking." She stood up. "Come on. You're right. It's time for coffee."

He followed her into the kitchen, but he had no intention of forgetting the conversation, or even letting her begin a new one. "Thinking about what?" he asked as he walked.

"Nothing." She opened a random cabinet and shut it again. "Where the hell are your coffee filters?"

"Here." He opened the correct cabinet and handed her one. "And the coffee's above you. Obviously you were thinking about _something _or you wouldn't have said all of that."

She placed the filter and opened the container of coffee. She frowned at it, as they were whole coffee beans. "How do I grind these?"

He opened the compartment where they went and pointed to it. "In here, and push this button," he said, showing her. "But don't think you're going to avoid my question."

She followed his instructions and leaned against the counter as the coffee maker did its thing. "Just… sometimes it seems like so much of your life is about taking care of other people. Alexis, sometimes your mom, and lately me… but you have your own problems too."

He smiled. "Oh, I don't have too many problems. All things considered, I'd say my life is pretty good."

"Yeah, but no one's life is perfect." She half-smiled. "Not even yours. And I'm not like you. I'm not good at taking care of people. It's just… not what I'm used to."

He shrugged. "That's fine. Everyone's different."

"I know, but in a relationship, I mean, you know, like a friendship… both people have to be there for each other. You're doing so much for me now, and I just want you to know that… you know, if you ever needed anything…"

She was struggling, so he interrupted her. "I know."

"Do you?"

He nodded.

"Well…" she nodded. "Good."

"So, what should we do today?" Now he was ready to change the subject.

"Do we necessarily have to have a plan every day?"

He shook his head. "No, not necessarily. Just wondering if you had any ideas."

"No ideas."

The coffee finished brewing and Castle got two mugs out of one of the cabinets and set them down beside the pot. Kate filled two cups and he fixed them the way they both liked. Cream and two sugars in his, a little more cream and a little less sugar in hers.

Without discussion, they each took their cup and walked out to the deck. It was almost ritualized now, the way they began every morning. And it was nice. He couldn't help thinking he'd miss it when they got back to the city. He'd miss waking up in the same house, the same room with her. He'd even miss arguing with her nearly every day. On second thought, he doubted that would end. He'd always done that.

Anyway, it was only Friday. Friday of the first week. There was still more than a week before they had to be back for the hearing. The hearing. Something he'd been trying not to think about, trying not to let Kate think about. Eventually they both would have to think about it, but it didn't have to be now, did it? Later. Later was good.

"How's my ocean doing this fine morning?" he asked rhetorically, walking over to the railing and setting his coffee cup on it.

"Not so smooth today," she noted, standing beside him. "It's a good thing we did the thing with the jet ski yesterday."

She was right. Although yesterday there had been waves, today they were significantly bigger and closer together. Today they seemed to be fighting for position, colliding and cresting a foamy white when the battle no one won came to an end. He continued to watch the waves, fascinated, and unlike yesterday not the least bit sickened. Quite a few minutes passed before he realized he hadn't said anything.

"See your French girl?" Kate asked playfully.

That snapped him out of his trance, and he turned to look at her instead of the water. "It's just kind of mesmerizing, don't you think?" he asked. "Watching the water? It's like… it's in this constant battle with itself, but nothing ever really changes. No matter how much the surface blows around, crashes into itself, underneath it's still water. The same water it always was." She looked at him, smiling a little but not saying anything, and he looked back at the water. "I'm probably over thinking it. But you know, I'm a writer. It's what we do." He took a sip of his coffee.

"Well," she said, a smile in her voice, "I always did like your writing."

* * *

><p>When he started thinking about dinner, he was sitting in a lounge chair on the beach alternating between writing in a leather-bound notebook and sipping a homemade rendition of a pina colada. Kate was in a chair beside him, and doing the same but reading rather than writing. She really was reading this time. He was sure of it because he kept hearing pages turn, and also because she had an adorable habit of making faces and sometimes little noises as she read, reacting to the events of the story.<p>

The reflection of the sun, which was behind him, on the water told him it was getting later in the day, and the rumble of his stomach told him he should probably start talking to Kate about whether they should order in or go out for dinner, but he was so content with this moment that he wasn't willing to end it.

It turned out that he didn't have to end it, because his cell phone did it for him. He looked at the caller I.D. before he answered it. Lanie Parish. "Be right back," he murmured to Kate before taking the phone and trotting back to the house. He had a feeling Kate wouldn't be entirely okay with the fact that he and Lanie were talking about her without her knowledge.

"Hey Lanie," he answered the phone once he was behind the closed sliding glass door.

"Castle," she responded a little formally. "How's my girl?"

He smiled. "I'm happy to report she's doing a lot better."

"Good," Lanie said, although she sounded a little unconvinced. "So you got her to talk to you about everything?"

"A little. We're making progress. I don't want to push her too much before she's ready."

"I notice you still haven't managed to get her to call me."

"It hasn't really come up."

"You mean you didn't even mention it to her?"

He shrugged guiltily. "I guess not."

"_Castle!_ It might be okay for you to have her there with you, avoiding all contact with the outside world, but you're not the only one who cares about her, and it would be nice for the rest of us to have some kind of confirmation that she's at least still breathing."

He laughed. "Well, you could call her instead of me."

"You think I haven't tried? I've tried. Javi's tried. Ryan's tried. Montgomery's tried. And that's just that I know of. She's not answering her phone for anyone. I don't even think it's turned on. And my thinking is that if she's still completely cutting herself off from everyone but you, she's not as okay as you want to think she is."

"I'll talk to her," he sighed. "She's just… been so much happier lately. I don't want to ruin that."

"She's gonna have to deal with reality eventually, Castle. When are you coming home?"

"Next Sunday night, probably. I figure that'll give her enough time to prepare for the hearing, but not enough time to dwell on it."

"If you're gonna keep her there that long, you better help her get ready."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She's gonna have to explain her side of the story to a judge. It sounds to me like you're still letting her avoid talking about it at all. If you were there and she can't even talk to you about it, how the hell's she gonna do it at the hearing?"

Lanie was right. He knew Lanie was right. But that was not going to be an easy conversation, and things had been going so well lately. She'd been happy. She'd been opening up to him in her own small ways. He was afraid that if he pushed her too far all of that would end. But that was a chance he'd have to take… eventually. "You're right," he finally said. "I will."

"And make her call me! Especially if you're not going to be back until next week. I can't wait that long to talk to her, and I _will_ resort to calling you and making you put her on the phone if I have to. Especially if you don't stop coddling her. It might be sweet, but it's not what she needs right now."

"I will ask her to call you, but I doubt I have the power to make her do anything she doesn't want to do."

"Especially if you don't try."

He rolled his eyes. "I said I'd try."

"Good. Do that. And keep me updated. Three days without hearing from either of you isn't good for the nerves."

"I will. Talk to you later, Lanie."

"Yes, you will." The M.E. hung up.

He was surprised when he turned around to go back outside that Kate was standing right behind him. He jumped considerably. "Geez! How did you get in here without me hearing the door?"

She rolled her eyes. "I wasn't trying to be sneaky, you were just distracted. Why were you talking to Lanie?"

He sighed. "How much did you hear?"

"Just the end. But you were talking about me, weren't you?"

He looked down. "I'm not sure what else Lanie and I would have to talk about…"

"How long have you been talking to her?"

"Only twice since we've been here."

"Two times in less than a week?"

"Yeah… she called me. You haven't been answering her calls, so she called me to make sure you were okay." He saw the irritation on her face and defended her friend's actions. "She just cares about you, that's all. And if you'd have called her back she wouldn't have had to call me."

"I just… haven't felt much like talking to anyone."

"Except me."

"You're different."

"I am?" The way she'd said that, he wasn't sure how to take it. Was it a compliment or an insult? Or neither?

"You were with me when everything happened. I don't have to explain anything to you. And you're not trying to make me talk about it before I'm ready. That's what everyone else is going to try to do."

Oh. So it was both, although she'd meant it as a compliment. But now was obviously not the time to take Lanie's advice, at least not the second part. "I just know that I'm not the only one who cares about you. Have you talked to anyone from home since we left?"

She shook her head.

"No one?"

"My phone's not even on."

"That's not good. Lanie told me that she, Esposito, Ryan, and Montgomery have all been trying to call you, and what about your dad? I'm sure he's heard something about what happened by now. Don't you think he deserves at least to know that you're safe?"

She looked down. "You're probably right."

"I _am_ right. At least call him. Not necessarily right now, but soon. And call Lanie, because if you don't she might just come here herself and strangle me to death with her bare hands."

Kate chuckled. "I'd protect you. You might not be able to take her, but I can."

He smiled. "Good to know. So what do you think about dinner tonight? Go out or order in?"

"Order in. Apparently I have a couple of phone calls to make."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well... I like the first part of this chapter a lot better than the second, but it's all important plot-wise. I actually really like the first part... some progress, a bit of role reversal, and a nice little cameo from the ocean metaphor. Actually there it was probably more symbolism than metaphor, but regardless... it's pretty. I'm kind of whatever about the second part, but it does help to move the plot along. Anyway.

Reviews are nice. :) That's all. I won't be too annoying about it this time.


	10. Intentions

"So how was your week, sweetie?" Castle was perched on the top of the made bed in the room he'd been sharing with Kate. She had gone to her original bedroom, the master with the ocean view and attached bathroom, to make her calls after they'd finished eating, and he had decided to make a call of his own.

"Not bad. Just a normal week, besides you not being here."

He smiled. "Well, that had better make a difference."

"Oh, not really," Alexis sighed dramatically, in an effort to torture him. "Although it has given me the opportunity to throw several wild parties."

"I'd better get home," he teased. "You're becoming more like your grandmother by the day. Have you talked to her lately? Is she back from her play yet?"

"No, apparently it's doing pretty well. She says she doesn't expect to be back until the end of next week. So she should be here by the time you're home."

"Goody. Just what I need." He imagined his mother piling on the questions about what had happened while he was away and what his intentions had been. He wasn't sure he'd know the answers to either of these questions, let alone want to share them. "Sorry we haven't really talked much. I've been a little preoccupied."

"It's okay. So have I. School, you know."

He nodded. "I do."

"So how is Detective Beckett?"

"Still insistent on my calling her Kate, but she's doing better."

"Good. I'm glad. It's a good thing you're doing, getting her away from everything."

He smiled a little sadly, because he was beginning to doubt that a little. "Well, I certainly thought so or I wouldn't have brought her here… but I'm not sure Dr. Parish agrees."

"Why not?"

"She's saying that I took her away from all the people who care about her. And that I'm letting her hide from the outside world."

"Isn't that what she wants?"

"Yes, but according to Lanie it isn't what she needs. And I'm inclined to agree with her. She's Kate's best friend, and she knows her pretty well."

"Well, so do you."

"I know I do, and I'm not sure I made the right call anymore." He'd been paying such close attention to Kate that he hadn't realized it, but the virtual lack of contact with the outside world had affected him as well. He really hadn't had any kind of extended conversation with anyone except Kate and occasionally Lanie since he'd been away, and now that he had fresh ears he was telling her everything. Granted, there wasn't much he held back from his daughter in general, but normally he probably would've put a little more thought into exactly how much he needed to tell her.

"Well, whether you did or you didn't, your heart was in the right place. And if you actually think it was wrong, just come home."

"I don't want to do that."

"Why?"

"Because she's happy here."

"Then how was taking her there not the right call?"

He sighed. He didn't really want or need to explain all of that right now. "It's… complicated," he said.

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

He smiled. "I'm sure you're right. Anyway, the main reason I called, besides to ask you how your week was going, was to see what your plans for this weekend were. You're more than welcome to join us here for a couple of days if you'd like."

"I actually have plans with Ashley tomorrow, and I have a test on Monday. Plus the weather's supposed to be bad, so I think I'll stay here."

"Fair enough. But if you change your mind, give me a call, okay?"

"I will."

"Good. Miss you, kiddo."

"I miss you too. Even though it _is_ easier to get my homework done without you distracting me."

He grinned. "See, _that_ sounds more like my daughter."

"Yeah, if you don't count the eyebrow piercing I'm pretty much the same."

He gaped at the phone for a second and then sighed. "Not funny."

"Huh, really? I'm amused."

"And mean."

"Yeah, well, you raised me," she teased. "I should go, a couple of my friends are coming over for movies and pizza, and they'll be here soon."

"Fine, go have a social life. I'll see you in a little more than a week. But I'm sure I'll talk to you before that. Call any time, okay?"

"I know. Love you, Daddy."

"Love you too, sweetie."

"Tell Beckett I said hi."

"She's making a couple phone calls of her own right now, but I will tell her when I see her."

"Good. I'll talk to you later."

"Absolutely. Bye, sweetie."

"Bye."

He hung up, set his phone aside and took out his notebook, balancing its leather cover on his leg. He skimmed through the page he'd written most recently, refreshing his memory about the latest situation he'd gotten Nikki Heat into, and poised his pen above the page, ready to add to it.

But he found himself unable to focus on Nikki head. Instead he drew a line just beneath the block of writing that was already there and switched gears.

_I know she's not telling me everything_, he wrote, letting all his uncertainties flow out and onto the page._ I know she has more going on inside than she wants to share. Lanie's right, I have to get her to talk to me, really talk to me, and not when she's still half-dreaming, but I'm afraid that if I push her too hard she'll completely shut me out again. Was it selfish of me to bring her here, away from everyone else that cares about her? Was I thinking about what would be best for her, or was I just thinking about what would make me feel the most like I was helping? She does seem happier, but I don't know if that's real or she's just compartmentalizing. I guess I'm just worried about her, and I don't think I'm going to stop being worried until after the hearing. But I do think that really talking about it, about everything, would help both of us. Maybe Lanie will help convince her of that. I think she's making progress, I'm just not sure if it's enough. I don't know if she'll be ready for the hearing when it finally rolls around._

_ Maybe Lanie and I are both overreacting. That's a possibility. It does feel like she's opening up to me a little more than she was a few days ago, and that's good. And like I told both Lanie and Alexis, she seems happier. No matter what Lanie says, that has to be a good thing. She's starting to get more comfortable here, and that's good. I'm glad we're here. I just wish the reasons why we're here were different. As it is… I just want her to be okay. That's really all I want._

He was startled out of his zone by a tall figure in his peripheral vision. "Writing anything exciting?" she asked.

"Oh. No," he said quickly, snapping his notebook shut. "Not really."

"You looked pretty absorbed," she said, sitting down beside him. "Didn't even notice when I came in."

"Yeah, well, you know me. I can get absorbed in anything. How'd your phone calls go?"

"Not bad. I called my dad first. He asked a million questions and I didn't really answer any of them. But I told him where I was and who I was with, and he seemed happy about that. I didn't give him the date of the hearing because I don't want him to show up, but I told him I'd stop and see him when I got home."  
>He smiled. "That's good. Did you call Lanie?"<p>

She nodded. "I did. She's very annoying."

He smirked. "And that surprised you?"

"Not really. What did surprise me is that she really didn't ask too many questions. She just kept talking about you."

He frowned. "Me."

"Yeah. About how great it was of you to bring me here, and how I should 'take advantage of the situation.' Her words not mine, believe me. If I didn't know better, I'd say she had motives that she wasn't letting on."

"But you do know better?"

She rolled her eyes. "I know Lanie."

"She actually said it was great of me to bring you here?" he asked, confused.

"Yeah, more than once."

"Weird. When I talked to her she didn't seem to think that."

"Who knows what she's thinking?" Kate looked down. "It was, though."

"Was… what?"

"Great of you. To bring me here."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"And now?"

"Well?" He shrugged. "You tell me."

"I love it here," she admitted with a shrug. "It's beautiful, and it's been really good to get away. And I don't think I'm ready… to really get back into the real world yet."

"Do you think you'll be ready when it's time?" he asked.

"I'll have to be, won't I?" She shrugged. "But I will. I've always been okay at doing what I have to."

"But you won't be doing it by yourself," he reminded her. "Not if you don't want to be."

"I know." She nodded. "It's a little weird, you know? We're getting into these routines while we're here, but when we go back to New York everything's going to go back to the way it was. Who knows if I'll ever even come back here again?"

He frowned. "You're welcome here any time."

She shook her head. "I know you say that, but I'm really not. This is your house, yours and your family's, and I'm never really going to belong here. It'll always just be somewhere where I spent a couple of weeks once."

"I don't know about that. I think you leave your mark on a place. This house will remember you were here. It'll never be quite the same."

She rolled her eyes. "Sounds like something out of a really ridiculous movie."

He smiled. "Okay… how about this? I'll remember you were here, and it'll never be quite the same to me."

She met his eyes. "What are we doing?"

He shrugged. "We're talking."

"No, I mean… what are we doing here?"

"Waiting. Talking. Remembering. Forgetting." He let a beat pass. "Healing."

"And that's all?"

"Isn't that enough?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know."

"What would make it enough?"

She sighed and looked away. "I don't know."

Something in the atmosphere, the vibe between them, had changed since Kate talked to Lanie. He couldn't place exactly what it was, but he wasn't sure he liked it. "Why do you think I brought you here, Kate?" he asked. There was an edge to his words that he didn't intend, but couldn't quite dull.

"To get me out of the city for a little while," she answered.

"But why?"

"Because it was what I wanted."

"Did you tell me that?"

She shrugged. "I don't remember. Did I?"

"I don't think so."

"Then you probably figured it out. You know me pretty well. And then…"

"And then what?" he asked, prompting her.

"Well, come on, Castle. I'm not stupid. Just the two of us here, alone, for two whole weeks?"

"I told you I was going to ask Alexis if she wanted to come up for the weekend."

She shrugged. "Yeah, but you didn't, did you? You just said that to make me feel more comfortable."

He frowned. She'd been thinking exactly what he'd been afraid she'd been thinking. "Of course I did. I called her while you were on the phone. She has homework and plans with her friends this weekend, so she's not coming. But she says hi." He looked her in the eye, challenging her, although he'd already won. "Why do you think I asked you here?" he demanded again.

She pressed her lips together, saying nothing.

"What did you think?" He was determined to get an answer now, one way or another. For some reason that he didn't try to understand, everything had changed. His vision blurred. He didn't care if he pushed too hard. He kept going. "Did you think that I just invited you here… what? To woo you?"

"I don't think that was the only reason, but I do think it factored in. Get me when I'm at my most vulnerable. Bring me here, with no one else I know, no one else at all in the house. But did you really think it would work?" she spat, getting angry as well. "Do you really think I'm that weak?"

He was fuming now, and he wanted to yell. He never yelled. He rarely lost his temper. But this… Could she really have said that? Was she really accusing him of that? He took a deep breath, because he wasn't going to solve anything by blowing up at her, and besides, blowing up really wasn't a part of his M.O. But somehow with that breath came not composure, as he'd hoped, but an entirely new emotion, and one that he didn't want her to know about right now. So he allowed the rage to come back, covering this new emotion and becoming a bit more subdued in the process. "Do you really believe that?" he asked her icily. "You know me, Beckett." He found that he didn't care if his use of her last name hurt her. "Or, at least I thought you did." He got up from the bed and headed toward the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I'll sleep in my own room tonight," he growled. But when he closed the door behind him he went not toward his original bedroom, but toward the door to the deck. Suddenly the house was feeling very cramped.

He let out a heavy sigh and leaned against the railing, his elbows resting on it, and his hands supporting his chin. He blinked away a few bitter tears and imagined that he could feel the spray of the ocean on his face, although he wasn't quite close enough. The water, though, was certainly in a condition to cause spray. The waves lapped angrily at the sand, engaged in a constant competition to see which one could find the shore first, which could reach the farthest. One crashed into another, bruising its surface, but the next second the wind would change or another wave would come, and the bruised segment would disburse. It never healed, just redistributed until the entire expanse of water shared the same dark blue-gray color, the same pain. The wave that caused it felt it just as much as the one it had tried to hurt.

The sky rumbled, threatening rain that it wouldn't allow to fall. The clouds were dark, and they spanned as much of the sky as he could see. It needed to rain. The sky needed to unleash its burden on the water and the sand, to relieve the pressure that was only building, as evidenced by the rumbles of thunder and the flashes of lightning. Holding the rain inside would only make the sky angrier, would only make the thunder and the lightning come with greater frequency. It needed to let loose, but it stubbornly refused.

After several minutes of standing outside, he realized that he was waiting for rain that wasn't going to fall and went back inside, sliding the door closed behind him with a little more force than was needed. He wasn't tired, but he went back to his old bedroom regardless. Next to the one he'd been using, it felt very small, very plain. Comfortless. The bed was the same, the mattress the same, the decorations on the walls the same. But no matter which direction he turned, there was no other bed beside him. No matter how hard he listened, there was no sound of soft breathing. No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't convince himself that he was overreacting. Couldn't make himself believe that everything was okay between him and Kate. That they would wake up the next morning and it would be forgotten. Maybe, this time, it wasn't that simple.

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><p><strong>AN: **I sense a bit of a shift between the beginning and the end of this chapter. I'm curious to see what you thought of it. Castle being stupid? Beckett being stupid? Shared idiocy? Or neither? I had my own reasons for writing it the way that I did, but I want to know how you guys, not being me, are viewing the situation with them fighting. So if you want to put something to that effect in your review, that would be cool. :) But you know, ultimately it's up to you.

Clearly I'm still engaged in beating the ocean/sky metaphor to death. And it's still fighting back, so I have a feeling it'll be making more appearances.

On a slightly unrelated note. During November I'm going to be attempting NaNoWriMo (if you haven't heard of it... attempting to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days) in November, so between that and schoolwork I seriously doubt that I'll have a lot of time for updating. I hope I don't completely leave all of my fics hanging until December... but I make no promises. So I apologize in advance for the lack of updates in the next month or so. And on a COMPLETELY unrelated note, if any fellow NaNo-ers happen to read this and want to look me up there, I'm Lorelai90 (it's an old screen name, but I'm too lazy to change it). Always looking for more writing buddies. :)

On another unrelated but still vitally important note... happy Castle Day!


	11. Cold

**A/N: **So much for not updating in November. I couldn't do it. If you guys like reading this stuff (which apparently you do, or you probably wouldn't be reading this right now...), I can almost guarantee that I love writing it more. The lack of fanfic writing was starting to make me cranky. So I stopped that silly self-control nonsense and wrote another chapter. So now my NaNo word count is pathetically behind, but you get another chapter to read. :) Hopefully it's worth it. It was for me. Also, it was pointed out to me that the last chapter left you on a bit of a cliffhanger... not an extreme one, but there was definitely a little drop involved... and to let you hang there for the whole month really wouldn't be very nice of me. So without further ado, Chapter 11. Hope you enjoy it.

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><p>He woke very early the next morning to the sound of rain pounding on the roof. The blinds on his window were closed, but he could tell from the lack of light streaming in around them that it was still dark outside. He wanted to go back to sleep, but something about the sound of the rain was making him thirsty, so he decided to get a glass of water first.<p>

He happened to glance out of the kitchen window while he was reaching into the cabinet for a glass. He expected to see an empty expanse of deck, but instead he saw the silhouette of a woman there, leaning against the railing. She was soaked, and the rain kept coming, falling over her and around her.

He told himself that he didn't care. She was a grown woman, and could take care of herself. If she wanted to stand outside in the rain, that was her business. But he found that he couldn't avert his eyes. He kept staring. Kept watching. A shiver ran through her body, and still she didn't move. Water dripped from her clothes and her hair.

He put down the water glass he'd never filled and closed the cabinet. Without really knowing why, he found himself stepping out onto the deck and closing the door behind him. The water immediately began to cover him, large drops soaking into his t-shirt. Casually, as if it wasn't raining at all and he always stood outside on his deck before sunrise, he strolled over to the railing and leaned against it. He stood beside her but he didn't look at her directly, and he didn't say anything at all. He didn't have anything to say.

They stood like this for a few minutes, looking out at the horizon, which was blurred from the rain. Finally he saw her head turn in his peripheral vision, and he turned as well to meet her eyes.

Her face was red and her eyes were swollen, leading him to believe that not all of the water on her face was a direct result of the rain. She shivered again and he fought the urge to wrap her in his arms, to protect her from the storm outside as well as the one that raged within her, remembering that he was still angry. Instead he nodded toward the door, suggesting that they go inside.

But she shook her head and looked away from him, back out at the water, stubbornly resolving to stay put.

It wasn't long before his own thin clothes were completely soaked through and he could feel the bone-chilling cold of the rain that neither stopped falling nor began to let up in any way. But he made his own resolution. He would not go back inside until she did.

He lost all track of time then. He had no idea how long they stood there, side by side but not touching, not speaking, not even looking at each other. But without ever turning to face her, somehow he was still aware of every movement she made. Every breath. Every shiver. Every time she turned her head just enough that she could see him in the same way.

It wasn't until he found himself unable to control his own shivering, to hide it or hold it in altogether because it didn't seem very manly, that she finally moved. She turned toward him, glanced at him for a split second, and then started for the door back into the house. She didn't check to see if he was following her, but he was, and he was privately grateful for her decision.

As soon as they were both inside he went for the hall closet and got out two towels. He handed her one before he began to dry himself with the other. But no matter how much he tried to blot the moisture away, no matter how tightly around himself he wrapped his towel, he couldn't seem to get warm again. This was a chill that went deeper than the skin, maybe even deeper than the bone. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to correct it.

Somehow he felt more tired now than he had when he'd first woken up, but he no longer felt any desire for a drink. He wanted to go back to bed, but first he looked at Kate, hoping for some kind of assurance that she wasn't going to be stupid and go back outside as soon as he was back in his bed.

When he looked she was blotting her face dry with her towel. But as soon as she took the towel away new moisture formed, making the gesture of drying rather unhelpful.

He wasn't okay with this. He hated seeing her upset. No matter what happened, no matter how angry she made him, he was never going to be okay with seeing her cry. It would never feel like a victory. He felt his own eyes filling not with tears, but emotions. Pity. Compassion. Sorrow. Kate noticed him looking and for a split second met his gaze. In that same second, he knew that she understood it.

He looked away quickly, and without a word went back to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him with a heavy sigh, but before he reached the bed he heard a knock, so light that it was barely audible.

He wasn't sure why, but he went back to the door and opened it. Kate had discarded her towel somewhere, but her clothes and hair were still soaking wet. Her face was dry, although her eyes were red. "Couldn't sleep,"' she explained softly.

"Don't care," he said with ice in his voice, starting to close the door again.

But she caught it before it could swing closed. "Liar," she accused, meeting his eyes so that he could see the steely resolve they now contained.

He wavered, but tried to close the door again.

But again she didn't let him. "It brings them closer," she said firmly, like he was somehow supposed to know what the hell she was talking about.

He squinted his tired eyes. "What?"

"The storm," she clarified. "You're right. It really looks like the sky is coming down to meet the water."

"And the water embraces the sky," he added, without thinking, before he remembered what he'd been intending when he'd written that metaphor. "How…?"

"Well, you just left your notebook on the bed in there."

"You read it?" he asked, anger coming back in full force. "That's my personal—"

"Oh, shut up." She pushed past him into the room, rolling her eyes. "Like you wouldn't have done the same thing if it was mine." She sat down on the edge of the bed, making herself at home.

"I didn't say you could come in here." He frowned pointedly.

"Don't care," she said, exactly as he had a minute ago.

"How much did you read?" he sighed.

"All of it."

His eyes widened. He'd had that notebook for almost two months now. There was a lot of writing in it, and, he was sure, some fairly unintelligible handwriting.

"Your next Nikki Heat novel ought to be interesting." She smiled.

He reached for words but couldn't seem to find any. "I, uh… probably won't end up using most of that. A lot of what's in there was just… brainstorming."

She shrugged. "Well, I'm not your editor."

"No," he managed, still unable to grasp the fact that she'd read his entire notebook. All the Nikki Heat stuff… and everything else. He wasn't sure whether to be more angry or embarrassed.

"I'm sorry I doubted you," she said, suddenly looking down. "I know you were just trying to be a good friend, bringing me here."

Surely he was wrong, surely he was tired and he wasn't judging correctly, but he could almost swear he heard something like disappointment in her voice. But he knew she'd make fun of him for the next decade for even thinking something like that, so he didn't mention it. He was thrown enough just by the simple fact that she was apologizing. Even if she had been wrong, it wasn't like her to admit it. "Lanie got things messed up," he said, excusing her.

"No," she said, inordinately fascinated with his sheets. "It wasn't Lanie. She did tell me I should talk to you more, but what I said was mine."

He took a step closer to the bed, but frowned. Because that wasn't okay. It wasn't okay that she'd questioned his motives like she had, especially if she'd come up with the reasoning on her own. She should've known him better than that by now.

"Castle…" She looked up at him, her eyes a little watery once again. "I'm not ready to go home yet."

He nodded. "I know."

"I don't want to fight anymore."

He sighed. "Neither do I."

A single tear slipped down her cheek. "I…" She swallowed. "I can't do this without you."

Finally, he sat down on the bed beside her. "You could," he said without quite looking in her direction. "But you don't have to." He leaned against the headboard and let his eyes slide closed. He needed sleep, and he needed it badly.

"You really are a good friend," he heard her say. "Thanks for that."

"Mm." He felt himself slipping out of consciousness.

"You're tired?" He could hear a frown in her voice.

"Astute," he mumbled. "You should be a detective."

"I just don't get why," she said, ignoring his comment, which he realized too late that he shouldn't have made. "You went to bed really early last night."

"Kate, it's like five in the morning." He cracked one eye open. "Why _aren't _you tired?"

"I haven't gone to bed yet."

He groaned.

"What? I had a lot of reading to do, and some of your handwriting took me awhile to decipher."

He swallowed and opened both of his eyes, ignoring a weird feeling in his throat. "You're not going back to that not sleeping thing," he said, actually meeting her eyes now.

She shrugged a little guiltily. "You messed up my routine."

"Go sleep," he commanded, sinking down into his bed and pointing at the door.

"Okay," she said. "I'm going."

He accepted this and closed his eyes. He was asleep again in under a minute.

* * *

><p>He woke for the second time that morning to what felt like a small army inside of his head, trying to make their escape by banging down the walls of his skull. The light was streaming in around the blinds now, leading him to believe that he must have been asleep for at least a couple of hours.<p>

He tried to sit up, but was stopped by a strange weight against his leg. When he looked, he saw that it was Kate. She'd claimed not to be tired earlier, but she must've fallen asleep here before making it back to her room. She was positioned oddly, lying on her side near the foot of the bed where she'd been sitting, with her head resting on his leg (the weight he'd felt, he realized) and her legs hanging over the side so that one of her feet touched the floor. It didn't look comfortable. She was going to be in pain when she woke up. But not nearly as much pain as he his head was causing him.

He needed coffee, he decided, but he didn't want to wake her up. He managed to force himself into a seated position and tried to prop up her head with his hands while he moved his leg out of the way, but the way her head was oriented made that awkward. He ended up with one hand resting on her cheek while the other got tangled in her hair.

She stirred, and he froze. "Castle?" she mumbled, her voice just barely awake. "Why is your hand on my face?" He pulled away quickly, and she sat up, although slowly, massaging her lower back. "Ow," she groaned. "What the hell kind of a position was I sleeping in?"

"A very strange one," he tried to say dryly. Even to his own ear his voice sounded wrong, like in his sleep it had somehow been rerouted through his nose. "When I told you to go sleep, I meant in your room."

"God, you sound terrible," she said, completely ignoring what he'd said. She turned to face him and her brow furrowed in concern. "And you don't look great, either."

"Thanks," he muttered. He rolled his eyes, but that only seemed to make the army in his head angry, and he had to fight a separate battle to stop his hand from grabbing his forehead in a kind of defensive maneuver. But he was sure he hadn't managed to completely hide his grimace.

"You feeling okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he insisted, although his odd nasal voice wasn't supporting this assertion. "I just need coffee."

She nodded. "Yes. Coffee. Me too. I'll go make some." She got up, and he tried to follow her, but when he stood up he felt dizzy and had to sit back down. "You stay here," she said, more gently than he would've expected. "I'll bring it in."

He watched her go and positioned his pillow behind him so that he could sit up and lean against it. He wondered why his head had suddenly become a separate entity from the rest of his body, and one that he wished he could remove. Coffee would fix the problem, he told himself. Hopefully it would be ready soon.

He smiled when she finally came back into the room, a mug in each hand. He didn't think he'd ever loved the smell of coffee more than he did at that particular moment. "Here you go," she said as she handed it to him. "Hope it helps."

He accepted it graciously and immediately took a sip, burning his lip. "Hot!" he yelped.

"You have to let it cool for a sec, tough guy," she teased, sitting down on the other side of the bed. "I just made it."

"Could've told me that," he complained, setting the cup on the end table beside the bed.

"It's common sense."

"Overrated." He stopped paying attention for a second and his hand found its way up to his temple. He took it away again quickly, but Kate had seen.

She set her coffee cup down on the end table that stood on her side of the bed and pressed her hand to his forehead before he could realize what she was doing. She'd taken it away again before his reflexes, considerably slower than usual, could kick in to push it away. She expelled a breath of relieved air. "I don't think you have a fever. Probably just a cold."

"I'm fine," he insisted for the second time that morning.

She rolled her eyes. "Come on. I can tell you feel crappy. I'm not sure why you're trying to hide it from me."

He wasn't exactly trying to hide it from her. It was more that he was trying not to admit it, even to himself. He didn't want to be sick, so he wasn't. He felt fine. _Just fine_, he mentally reminded the army that was still trying to break free of his skull. It didn't help. But even if he was sick, he still wasn't exactly on the best terms with Kate. He was still a little irritated with her and he was sure she wasn't thrilled with him. Granted, the fact that she'd fallen asleep on his leg had to mean something, but he couldn't make his exhausted brain work out what that was. He took the coffee from the nightstand again and took a tentative sip. It was a little cooler now. Still hot, but cool enough to drink.

"See, you're not talking," she pointed out. "Normally I can't get you to shut up."

"Maybe I just don't have anything to say to you," he suggested coldly.

She seemed to deflate a little, but then she nodded. "Okay. I deserve that. But I'm sorry. I said I was sorry." She looked away for a second, took a sip of her coffee, and then met his eyes again. "I should take you home."

He frowned. "Why?"

"Because you're sick," she said, her expression caught somewhere between worry and frustration. "And because you're mad at me, and you should be mad at me. You shouldn't have to stay here with me now. You should go back to your family. Go back to your life."

He sighed. "We've been here before. This is my life."

She shrugged. "Only if you want it to be."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said firmly. "I'm not ready to leave."

"But you're sick."

"I'm not _that_ sick. I'll be fine in a day or two. We still have more than a week before we have to be back."

"'We'?"

"Of course 'we'. I'm not gonna abandon you just because you pissed me off."

"You're sure that's what you want?"

"Don't ask me again," he warned.

She nodded. "I'm gonna earn your forgiveness," she told him, like she was making a threat.

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, intrigued, but then lowered it quickly because it really didn't help the whole situation with his head. "How?"

"You've been taking care of me this whole time. Now it's my turn. What can I do?"

"Nothing," he grumbled. "I'm fine."

"Come on, Castle. I'll get you anything you want. You might never get this opportunity again. Take advantage."

"All I want is for my head to stop hurting," he moaned, pressing his hand over his eyes.

"I can get you some aspirin or something. Where is it?"

"I don't usually keep that stuff here."

"Then I'll go buy some. Do you need anything else while I'm out?"

"No."

"Sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Then I'll be back in a bit." She smiled teasingly. "You gonna make it 'til I get back?"

He rolled his eyes and banished her with a wave of his hand.

She started to walk toward the door, but he stopped her. "Wait."

She looked back at him, eyebrows raised, waiting for directions. "Yeah?"

"Car keys are in the kitchen."

She nodded and left the room without closing the door behind her.

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><p><strong>AN (because I can never seem to leave it at just one): **I didn't mean to do this. That might sound weird. But I really didn't. This story seems to have its own ideas about where it wants to go and how it wants to get there (especially how it wants to get there). I actually feel kind of bad about this chapter. As if Castle wasn't going through enough, now he has to get sick on top of it? Poor guy. But as much as I didn't intend for that to happen, I think it works well on a couple of different levels, so I left it that way (because as much as this story does have the power to take the wheel and show me some seriously unexpected back roads, I can still reroute it if it decides to take a road that I don't want to drive down). (Oh good, another unrelated author's note metaphor.)

So reviews are good! :) I'll be interested to see what everyone thought of that little semi-twist.

I'm not going to make any claims about when I'll have the next chapter ready by this time. I'm never right anyway. When I say it probably won't be for awhile, I have a chapter finished in a week. When I say I think it'll be soon, it takes a lot longer than I think it will. So I'm not going to say anything at all. The next chapter will be up when it's up. :) Thanks so much for your patience, and bearing with me through my occasionally insanely sporadic updating.


	12. Time

**A/N: **Sorry for the lack of updates lately. I've been busy with school and attempting NaNoWriMo. Which did not work, for the record. I barely capped 20,000 words. But I also quit a few days before the end of the month because I knew I wasn't going to make it and I decided I'd rather focus on fanfic. Ah, priorities. Gorgeous little things. Although they never seem to stay where I put them. Instead they run all over the place and I lose track of half of them. Usually the ones that most people might deem "important." Subjective. Fanfiction is important. And I'm sure you agree if you're reading this. Excellent way to skew an audience.

ANYWAY. What was I saying? Right. My lack of updates. I actually almost forgot how to post a new chapter. I wish I was exaggerating. I literally tried to add a new chapter without uploading it to the doc manager first and then wondered why I couldn't find it. SIGH. You know it's been too long when. I'll try not to let that happen again. Also, I feel really bad about how long I left poor Castle feeling all crappy. He really doesn't deserve that kind of treatment. But I do have another chapter for you to read now. Which I assume you figured out using your excellent deductive skills and the fact that this is an author's note... and those tend to be either followed or preceded by chapters. So you can read it now. I give you my permission. And with that, I shut up.

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><p>He hadn't had any thought of falling asleep again. He'd slept for quite a long time the night before. But he must have, because when he heard the bedroom door open, it woke him up. He hadn't actually remembered Kate closing it when she left, but she must have, because she opened it and reappeared with a bowl of something that smelled amazing.<p>

"Here," she said, trying to hand it to him. "You should eat something."

But ignoring the rumbling of his stomach and the appealing smell, he pushed it away. "I'm not hungry," he said. In reality, he just didn't feel much like letting her take care of him.

"You don't have to eat all of it, just eat some. It'll help, I promise."

"What else are you gonna promise? World peace?"

"Just take it, Castle," she warned.

He did, but he didn't eat any. "I believe you also said something about aspirin?" he reminded her.

"I did. Check the bedside table."

He looked. There was a box of DayQuil capsules and a glass of water. "You were in here before?"

"Checked on you as soon as I got back, but you were passed out. So I left the box and the water here for when you got up, and I went to make this. My mom's recipe. She used to make it for me every time I got sick. Should be good."

He frowned. "You had time to make chicken noodle soup from scratch? How long was I asleep?"

"It's not from scratch. It's from a can, just fixed up a little. But it should still be good."

"Fixed up how?"

"I can't tell you that. It's a secret family recipe. You are not family, nor can you keep a secret. Just eat it."

He gave up and tried it. "It's good," he admitted.

"I'm glad."

"Get some for yourself," he suggested. "You have to eat too."

"I already did."

He nodded. "Then sit down at least. It's weird with you just standing there watching me eat."

She perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed. He studied her as he ate. There was so much difference in her, he noticed, between yesterday and today. Yesterday she'd been more relaxed. The color had started to come back into her cheeks, and the brightness into her eyes. But today all of that was gone. The dark circles beneath her eyes had reemerged. There was a pallor to her face that he didn't like. And something about her appeared… uncomfortable.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked.

She came out of the distracted place where she'd been. "What?"

"Whatever's bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?"

She shifted. "Not really."

"Will you anyway?"

She nodded slowly. "I'm sorry, Castle."

"We already did the apology thing," he reminded her.

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about this morning."

He frowned. "What about it?"

"How long were you standing outside in the rain with me? If you were already getting sick, I'm sure that didn't help."

He felt a chunk of the iceberg inside of him break off and melt away, and he smiled. "How could you have known that? I didn't even know that."

"I should've," she said, twisting the comforter between her fingers. "That whole seasickness thing… that's not normal for you, is it? And it took longer than it should've for you to get over it. Plus you slept for like nine hours last night and you were still exhausted. You usually have more energy than most six-year-olds I've met."

He smirked. "How many six-year-olds have you met?"

She sighed, but he saw a hint of a smile on her face. "Not the point."

"Come on, Kate. It's not your fault I got sick. Not at all. And it's sweet that you're trying to take care of me, but I don't want you to feel like you have to or you owe me or anything like that. I'm fine. This trip… it's supposed to be about you. Not me."

"Well, if you wanted it to stay that way, you shouldn't have gotten sick."

"I agree. But here we are."

"Here we are," she repeated. She opened the DayQuil box, got out two capsules and dropped them in the palm of his hand. "Take these, it'll help."

He did, but then turned to her. "You know, just because you're taking care of me doesn't mean I stop taking care of you. You need to talk, I'm here."

"Actually, I'm happy to have something else to focus on for awhile. But thanks."

He nodded. If that was what she wanted, she could have it. He didn't have the energy to fight her to open up right now, and he wasn't sure he had the energy to receive it well if she did.

Kate took his bowl and left the room, going, presumably, to the kitchen. She sat back down for a second and then left again, came back into the room with a box of tissues and set them on the nightstand, leaving the bedroom door open. She sat back down, but then got up again and shut the door. Then she sat down, strummed her fingers against her leg for a few seconds, and got up again.

Castle couldn't watch this anymore. "What are you doing?" he asked, a hint of a laugh in his still-nasal voice.

"Oh, uh… I was gonna open the door."

He raised an eyebrow. "You know we're the only two people here. It makes no difference if it's open or closed. Why don't you relax?"

She went to the door and opened it about two inches. This seemed to satisfy her, because she nodded at it and then started walking back toward the bed. "Relax," she repeated as if it had been a command that she was now trying to follow. This wasn't exactly what he'd intended. But this time she didn't sit down. Her lips pursed. "I can't," she said quickly. "This is weird. I need to do something. What do you want me to do?"

He smiled. He knew what she meant. There was an odd sort of tension in the air. Things weren't completely right between them, weren't back to normal, but here they both still were, concerned about each other but not quite sure what would be appropriate to say or do. How far was too far? What wasn't far enough? "Look," he finally said, "I might not be doing anything too exciting today, but there's really no reason I still need to be in bed. How about I get dressed and meet you out in the living room in a few minutes?"

She eyed him skeptically. "Sure you're gonna be okay? Last time you tried to get up it didn't exactly go well."

He remembered the annoying dizzy spell that had led to his still being here in the first place, but he nodded. "I think I'm better now." He pushed back the covers to demonstrate this and swung his feet around to the side of the bed.

"Nice and slow," she cautioned.

But he stood up quickly and with a bit of dramatic flair in an effort to emphasize the fact that he was fine and she was worrying about nothing. It backfired. The head-splitting dizziness came back, this time accompanied by an unwelcome hint of nausea, and although he was determined not to sit back down, he had to squeeze his eyes shut.

She was at his side in an instant, taking a firm hold of his forearm to keep him steady. "See what happens?" she said, although even in her triumph she sounded concerned. "How about you skip the flourish today and focus on staying vertical?"

"What's life without flourish?" he tried to banter, but it came out sounding more like a grumble as he was still trying to get his bearings.

"You okay?"

He nodded.

But she wasn't buying it. "Speak," she insisted, trying to meet his eyes. "Are you okay?"

He nodded again and she frowned. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Yes. I'm okay." He took a deep breath to regain full composure and then eyed her hand, still supporting his arm. "You can let go now."

"Oh." She looked at her hand as if wondering how it had gotten there and then did let go. "Okay. Then I'll go. You sure you're good?"

"Go."

She stepped out of the room, this time decidedly closing the door behind her.

Kate was in the living room sitting on the couch when he emerged in old but comfortable jeans and a navy blue fleece he wore over a t-shirt. He sat down beside her but then quickly moved over a little. "I don't want to get you sick," he explained.

She rolled her eyes. "We've been in all the same places for almost a week now. Either I'm not going to get it or I'm already screwed."

He saw the wisdom in this, but kept his distance just in case.

"The DayQuil you took should be kicking in. Feeling any better?"

He nodded. "Yeah, a little."

"Good." She hesitated for a second but then nodded, apparently resigning to say something. "Castle, I think there's something I need to talk to you about. If you're up for it."

He nodded, frowning. "Of course. What's up?"

"You know that if I'd actually believed your motives for bringing me here were anything but pure I wouldn't have come. Right?"

He exhaled. "That was what I thought, yes."

"Well, you were right. I never doubted you. Not really."

He frowned. His headache had begun to dull significantly, but now he felt it coming back. "Then why did you tell me you did?"

She sighed, but didn't answer right away. She looked straight ahead. If she was seeing him at all, it was only in her peripheral vision.

"Kate?" he prompted after a long moment of silence.

"I think…" she began. "I think maybe I wanted it to be true."

This made even less sense. "You wanted me to want to take advantage of you?"

"No, I just… I thought maybe… but it was stupid." She still wasn't looking at him. "You're a good friend. That's it."

His mind began to clear a little. "Do you want more?" he asked.

"No," she said reflexively. But then she considered her shoes, and they seemed to change her mind. "I don't know. It's a weird time for both of us right now. You're sick, and I'm all… emotionally…" She struggled for a word. "Well, you know."

He nodded. "As much as you'll let me."

"I mean, we're still stuck here together for another week," she said. "I don't want to make things weird."

"I don't think it can get much weirder than the last few hours have been."

"But now…" She shook her head. "I can't right now. It's not the right time for me to be starting anything new. But I do… I trust you. And I know that you care about me. I just wish that I was sure that I could offer you as much as you've already given me."

He met her eyes. She was as sincere as he'd ever seen her. He wanted to tell her that he was sure. That she was a wonderful person and that, when she was ready, she would make a great girlfriend. But he couldn't quite get there. Couldn't feel that sentiment authentically enough to persuade it to pass through his lips. He swallowed. His throat hurt. His head was still pounding, although somewhat less violently than it had been before. His brain was running slower than usual. He didn't want to do this now. He felt about the least sexy and eloquent that he ever had. But he had to say something. He knew that. "I don't think this is the right time to start doing anything different," he finally said. "Not for either of us."

She nodded. "I agree. But maybe when all this is over, you know, depending on what happens at the hearing… maybe we can have this conversation again."

He let his eyes slide closed and nodded. "It's a plan."

"I'm sorry," she said, actual concern evident in her voice. "This wasn't the right time for that, was it?"

He opened his eyes. "It might not have been the best time. But it worked. Hopefully I'll be a little more helpful tomorrow. I'm not really doing my job now, am I?"

She smiled. "You're fine. I'm not doing my job."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly is your job?"

"Get you better." She located the TV remote on the coffee table, picked up the remote and flicked it on. "No more heavy subject matter," she declared. "For the rest of the day, we watch stupid TV shows and think about nothing. Got it?"

He nodded. Maybe, for one day, that would be best for both of them.


	13. Escape

**A/N:** I certainly kept you waiting awhile for this, didn't I? Sorry about that. But it's back! I feel like I'm going to be working on this fairly consistently this week, so... for whatever that's worth. Enjoy!

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><p>Castle awoke the next morning with only fuzzy memories of the night before. He remembered stumbling upon a marathon of old <em>Temptation Lane <em>episodes and watching a lot of them. He remembered eating the pizza that Kate ordered. He remembered her giving him NyQuil awhile later, and persuading him, with some difficulty, to take it. And after that everything blurred. He'd suddenly become very comfortable on the couch, with no desire to move again, ever. But after drifting in and out of sleep several times, she'd taken him by the arm and led him to his bed, ignoring his garbled protests.

It wasn't until the morning that he realized which bed. Kate was still asleep in the one next to his. Apparently they'd gone back to that sleeping arrangement. When he got up, she didn't stir. For once, she was sleeping very soundly.

The army in his head must have tired, because they were no longer pounding on his skull. He felt good. Maybe a little lethargic yet, but better. Definitely better.

He opened and closed the bedroom door silently and went to the kitchen to make coffee. When it was done, he took a mug out to the deck, falling back into the routine that he and Kate had developed.

He was only about halfway through his coffee when Kate joined him with her own cup. "Morning," she greeted him with a smile, squinting a little in the bright sun. "How're you feeling?"

"Better." He nodded. "A lot better. Thanks."

"You sound better," she observed.

"How about you?" he asked, changing the subject.

She shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Are you really?"

She nodded slowly. "You know, I really am."

"Okay." He nodded. "Good." He didn't really believe her, but it was only Sunday, and it seemed like it would be good to take a day where they could both just sort of relax and re-acclimate to everything. To the place. To the circumstances. To the routine. To each other.

"Feels good to be out here again," she said. "You know, when the sun's actually up and it's not pouring."

"Yeah, it does."

"So what should we do today?"

He shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. What do you want to do?"

She smirked. "Think Steve would let us borrow the jet ski again?"

He groaned. "You're hilarious, really."

"I know. So we'll stay land-based. But we should do something."

"Well, I'm not quite up for doing anything too crazy right now, but we haven't spent a whole lot of time on the beach. Want to do that? We'll build a sandcastle or something."

She grinned. "A sand_castle_?"

"Yes, as the name should imply, I'm quite the sandcastle pro. And then maybe we'll have a campfire later. We haven't done that yet. How does that sound?"

"Are you remotely aware that we're adults?"

"Who cares? No one's around. Anyway, you've never seen a Castle sandcastle. None of this piling up a bunch of sand and calling it a castle. Alexis and I went through a phase a few years back and got all these crazy sand molds. It's actually pretty cool."

She laughed. "Whatever. I'm game."

"Great. Then it's what we'll do." He raised his mug indicatively. "After we finish our coffee, of course."

* * *

><p>"It needs a moat," Castle decided as Kate filled a plastic mold with sand.<p>

She looked at him defiantly. "It doesn't need a moat, it's not even done yet."

"I don't know." He studied the castle. "It looks pretty good to me."

"Castle, come on. Look at it." She pointed at the left side. "That wall is starting to fall down, and the tower needs to be higher."

"I don't know about that. And anyway, what's the point of making it perfect if there's no moat to protect it?"

"What's the point of protecting it if it isn't perfect?" she countered.

He shrugged. "No one's perfect."

She rolled her eyes. "It isn't a person, it's a sandcastle."

"But we're people, and we're never going to get it a hundred percent perfect. It's going to have flaws."

"But what's the point of building it if we're not going to try to make it perfect?"

"It doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful."

She sighed and set down the mold she'd been planning to use for a new, stronger wall to replace the one that was just beginning to crumble. "Whatever. You can dig a moat if you want. I'm gonna go for a swim."

He frowned. "Seriously? The water's freezing."

"I'll get used to it. And anyway, I'm not going to stay in long. Just feeling the need for some exercise."

"Okay, enjoy."

She smiled, ran a few steps up to the water and then a few more into it, and then without so much as a pause dove and started swimming. Castle watched her for a few seconds, wondering how she could do absolutely everything with so much grace. But then he started working on the moat. Because no matter what the castle's flaws were, even if it wasn't quite finished and even if it would never be quite perfect, it still needed protection.

He alternated between digging his sand moat and watching Kate swim, so he noticed when she started back toward the shore and met her with a towel. A wave washed in and over his bare foot, and he was reminded again of just how cold it was.

"Thanks," she said, taking the towel appreciatively as he draped it across her shoulders. "You're right, it is pretty cold in there." But her cheeks had picked up some color from the exercise, and he had to admit that she looked better than he'd seen her lately.

"You looked good out there," he said, smiling.

She shrugged. "Felt good. How's your moat progressing?"

"Almost done. I just have to finish that little section in the back."

"Looks good."

"Thanks. See, the waves shouldn't come up this far, but now if one does, it'll take out the moat before it wrecks the castle."

"That's a lot of pressure to put on a little moat," she said with a soft smile.

He smiled back. "Yeah, but I don't think it minds. That's what it's there for."

* * *

><p>"Hey, uh, you're burning your marshmallow there," Kate pointed out, smirking in Castle's direction.<p>

"Oh, perfect." He pulled his metal marshmallow stick out of the fire, removed the blackened marshmallow from it and and popped it into his mouth dramatically. He immediately realized his mistake and grimaced. "Ow," he managed to get out, his mouth still full of marshmallow. "Hot!"

Kate laughed. "No kidding! You just took it out of the fire, genius."

He swallowed. "Just give me water, now."

She took a cold water bottle from the small cooler they had sitting nearby and gave it to him. He took a few quick gulps and then let a mouthful cool his burnt tongue.

"You okay?" she asked after a moment, still smirking.

He swallowed. "I'm good."

She took her own marshmallow, which was an even golden brown, out of the fire, but let it cool. "So I guess you're one of those people who like their marshmallows burnt," she surmised.

"Yeah. But usually a little cooler."

"Never got that. I like them brown, but not burnt." Carefully, she removed the first golden layer of her marshmallow with two fingers and popped that into her mouth, leaving the sticky marshmallow core on the stick. She proceeded to aim it back over the coals and continue roasting. "I used to do this when I was a kid," she explained, smiling. "One layer at a time."

He made a face. "Takes too long."

"Cooking them is half the fun, though."

"I don't know about half." Castle took a raw marshmallow out of the bag and ate it before putting another on his stick. "Next round's going on s'mores," he declared.

"I'm still working on this one," she protested.

"Want me to make you one? I can do two at once." Before getting her answer, he stabbed a second marshmallow with the other prong of his marshmallow spear.

"I don't want it burnt," she warned.

"I won't burn it. I'm capable of getting them golden brown, I swear."

"Okay, fine then." She peeled the second layer from her marshmallow and continued roasting what little was left.

He wished the rest of the week could go as smoothly as today had. Everything about it had been so calm and natural. But tomorrow was Monday, the day that marked exactly one week until the hearing, and the day he'd promised himself that he'd start trying to get her to think about it. Today was the last day of complete escape. Tomorrow, reality would begin to descend on their little island. It would have to. But he planned to cling to the remains of today for as long as he could.

He made a couple of s'mores, both with perfectly golden brown marshmallows, and handed one to Kate. Then they sat down in the two folding canvas chairs that they'd set up in front of the campfire ring and ate them.

"It seems like there are so many stars here," Kate noted, looking up at the sky. "I mean, we're not exactly in the middle of nowhere, but we're not in Manhattan with all the city lights either."

"It's nice, isn't it?"

"Mm," she said, agreeing. "I love the stars."

He smiled. "I never knew that about you."

"Yeah, well… now you do." A beat passed, both of them looking upward. "You see the big dipper?"

"Oh yeah." Castle pointed toward the grouping of stars. "Right there."

"Yep. What about the little dipper?"

"I've never been able to find that one."

"Look." She pointed at the sky, although from where he was sitting he didn't have quite the same vantage point that she did. "You take the two stars to the right of the big dipper's cup, and they point to it."

He tried to follow look where she was telling him, and he could invent quite a few crazy pictures in the stars that he found, but he still didn't see anything that looked like the little dipper. "Still not seeing it."

"Just look." She shifted her chair closer to his, so that they were looking in the same direction and just inches away from one another. She pointed again, and this time, with her arm right in front of him, he could tell what she was pointing at. "Follow these two stars… right to there. See that one? Right there? It's not that bright, but it's not dim either? That's the North Star, and then the little dipper hangs off of it, that way." She traced its trail with her finger. "See it?"

For a split second he wondered if she'd move her chair back to where it had been if he admitted that he now saw exactly what she was talking about, and considered telling her he didn't, but thought better of it. "Oh yeah, I see it now."

She put her arm down, but didn't move her chair. "How do you think our sandcastle's doing?" she mused.

"The water's been pretty calm today. I bet it's fine. But we could check on it before we go to bed."

"Mm," she murmured. "Let's do that."

He could hear the tiredness in her voice, and he felt it himself. He knew that he should probably suggest they go to bed now, but between the cool night air, the heat from the fire, the feeling of the sand on his bare feet, and now her proximity, he had no desire to move. So he didn't. He let his hand rest on the top of her chair and let his eyes slide closed.

* * *

><p>The next thing he knew, he was slumped down in his chair using its back as a headrest. The fire had burnt down to just a few smoldering coals, and Kate's head was resting on his chest, her breathing heavy and rhythmic. He didn't really want to wake her, but he had a feeling they'd both regret sleeping in folding chairs all night come tomorrow morning.<p>

"Hey," he said softly, just above a whisper. "Kate? Wake up. Let's go inside."

She grunted, but didn't move.

"Come on." It was difficult urging her to move when he didn't much feel like it himself, but he managed to pull himself into more of a normal seated position in his chair, which forced her head to move and succeeded in fully waking her up.

"Oh," she said when she realized where she'd been laying. She immediately sat up and stared at the fire pit, not meeting his eyes. "I… I must've fallen asleep."

He chuckled. "You and me both. Come on. Let's go inside."

"I thought we were gonna check on the sandcastle first?"

"Oh. Right." He was surprised she remembered that. He hadn't. But he picked up the flashlight he'd left beside his chair and led the way to the spot where they'd built the sandcastle earlier in the day.

It didn't take him long to find it with the beam from his flashlight. "Here," he said. "Right here. See? Just the way we left it."

"Looks good to me," she assessed. "The moat's still there, too."

"Yep. Just like we left it." He nodded toward the house. "Let's go to bed." He didn't realize how that sounded until it was out of his mouth, and as soon as it was he desperately wanted to take it back.

But if Kate noticed, she let it pass. "No, wait." She started toward the water. "Come here a sec."

"What, are you gonna go swimming again? It's dark, there are sharks and stuff."

She laughed. "No more than there are in the day time. But I'm not going swimming in the middle of the night. Just come here."

Somewhat reluctantly, he followed her down to the place where the water met the sand. She took just one more step, so that the cold waves licked her feet. At her encouragement he followed suit, although he couldn't quite stifle a gasp when the water first touched his warm skin.

He aimed his flashlight around, looking for sharks, stingrays, jellyfish, crabs… anything he didn't especially want to be in the water with. He didn't find anything.

"Turn off the light," she said.

"What? No way! I want to see the thing before it bites me."

He couldn't see her face in the near darkness, but he could almost hear her eyes roll. "Nothing's gonna bite you," she laughed. "Turn it off. Just for a sec."

For some reason, he did. None of the lights were on in the nearby houses, but his eyes soon adjusted to the light from the moon and stars and their reflections. Even more than in the daylight now, the horizon blurred. The ocean and the sky didn't seem two distinct entities, especially with the tiny pinpricks of light from the stars reflected on the water. Everything melded together in a shimmering dark blue.

In the darkness, he felt his hand brush hers. But he didn't pull away. And neither did she.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So. The metaphors are kind of starting to run rampant through this story, if you haven't noticed. While I was writing this chapter I'm pretty sure they stole Castle's shovel, dug a giant hole, stuck me in it, and proceeded to dump sand on me until I couldn't move and just took the entire thing over. To be perfectly honest, I didn't even realize what I was doing with the wall in the sandcastle crumbling thing until I saw it typed. And then I sort of spazzed out a little, because not only is that ANOTHER metaphor that somehow wriggled its way in, but it's an actual canon Castle metaphor, not just one I made up like the ocean/sky thing or now apparently the castle/moat thing that decided it wanted to be there. So... yeah. They have control now.

Also... I edited this to the best of my ability, but the sandcastle scene got a bit confusing (and justifiably so, I think...), so any capitalization errors are a product of the fact that the object and the person were both in the same scene at the same time, and that's just a bizarre and confusing situation. :P Not sure why I did that. It must have been the metaphors' idea. Sneaky little devils.

I hope to climb out of this sand pit before too long and get another chapter written. But if the next chapter winds up being called "Revenge of the Metaphors" or "When Metaphors Attack," or if Castle and Beckett randomly become a sea anemone and a clownfish, or something like that... you'll know I'm still stuck here. Send help.

The bright side to being stuck in a sand pit dug by my own out of control metaphors is that I'm pretty sure I can still get reviews from down here. So send a few along, and I'll be quite pleased. :)

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><p>*Disclaimer: I'm not in an ACTUAL hole. That was *gasp* another metaphor.<p>

**Oh no. Now they're taking over my author's notes too? When will it end?


	14. A Person

**A/N: **So unless you're just getting into it now, you probably thought I'd forgotten all about this story. I haven't, I swear. Well, clearly, since this, ladies and gentlemen, is what some might call an update. Bet you didn't know that. I've been busy, and distracted with other stories, and... procrastinating. Okay, mostly procrastinating. I wasn't exactly sure where I wanted this chapter to go. But it finally went. :) So, without further ado...

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><p>The last thing he wanted to do was open his eyes. As long as they were closed, last night would drag on, and he could pretend that everything was okay. That he and Kate had just come here for a little vacation. But as soon as he opened them, it would be Monday. One week before the hearing that could forever alter the course of her future. And his.<p>

He wondered if he couldn't put off talking to her about it just one more day. One final day of bliss in the sand and sun. But somewhere inside of him, he knew that would be a mistake. He had promised himself that it would be today, and he had no idea how it was going to go. He just knew that right now she was far from ready for the hearing, both mentally and emotionally. If she needed a whole week to get there, he was going to make sure she got it.

His conception that it could still be the previous night sufficiently ruined by all of these thoughts, he broke down and cracked his eyes open. Kate was still in her bed, but she was awake, and she was looking at him.

He met her eyes and smiled. "Good morning," he murmured without moving.

"Morning," she replied groggily. She must not have woken up long before he did.

"Sleep well?" he asked.

She nodded. "Really well."

He felt his stomach twist a little. She'd made so much progress since they'd arrived here. He wondered if talking about all that had happened would take her back to the nightmares and the distantness that had characterized Beckett just a week ago. He hoped against hope that this wouldn't be the case. "Good," he said. "I'm glad."

"Did you?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. Really well," he echoed.

"It was a good night for both of us, then." She smiled.

Briefly, he wondered if she was referring to the sleep or everything that had come before. Either way he agreed, so he nodded. "Coffee?" he asked rhetorically.

"Mm." She nodded. "Please."

She followed him to the kitchen and he got the coffee pot going. He prepared two cups and then she took hers and led the way to the usual chairs on the deck.

For awhile they sat in comfortable silence, listening to the surf and the seagulls and sipping their coffee. Castle watched a seagull soar toward the beach and hover for a second, contemplating landing, before flying off in a different direction entirely. The hovering was a transitional phase, when some circumstance, be it food or wind, led the bird away from the path it was flying and told it that it should choose a different one. While it hovered, the gull could look around and decide which direction would be best to try and fly, but if it hovered for too long without flapping its wings it would fall from the sky and plummet to the sand. But just the slightest movement of its wings could hold it there for another second, prolong the time it had to make its decision.

"Can you believe we've been here for a whole week now?" he asked, hinting at his real point as gently as possible.

She swallowed, and he knew she guessed it. "Yeah," she sighed, "I can. It's gone fast, though."

"Yeah." He nodded. "It has. This week will probably go fast too."

"I'm sure it will."

His mouth tightened and he sighed. She knew what he was getting at, he was sure of it. But she wasn't breaching the subject, and he didn't really want to be the first to do so. So he continued to sip his coffee, allowing silence to set in once again. But this wasn't the comfortable silence of a moment ago. This was a loaded silence. An awkward tension that they both knew one of them was going to have to break.

After a long moment, Kate shifted, and then sighed. "I'm happy now, Rick," she breathed. "Can't we just leave well enough alone for a couple more days?"

He couldn't express how badly he wanted to say yes. How much he wanted to believe that there wouldn't be any harm in just going ahead like it was a vacation for one more day. Maybe two. But he couldn't, because at the end of two days, nothing would have changed. She wouldn't be any closer to being ready for her hearing, and she'd still want to put off thinking about it for one more day. Or maybe two. He'd decided that today was going to be the day, and he wasn't going back on that. "No," he said softly. "We can't."

"Why not?"

"Because. The hearing is in a week, and it's important. You need to be ready."

"What if I don't go?" she asked, in so low a voice that it was almost inaudible.

He couldn't process this. "What?"

"I said, what if I just don't go?" Her voice was a little louder now, gaining confidence.

"Kate, you have to go."

"Why? Why do I have to go?"

"Because if you don't go, you forfeit your badge."

"I know."

"Well—" He was at a loss for words. What was she saying? "That's what we're trying to avoid, isn't it?"

"I—I don't know."

"Okay, you've gotta fill me in on what you're thinking here."

She bit her lip, deep in thought. "Do you know what happened last night, Castle?"

He felt his eyes widen without his consent. "Um, well, I wasn't drunk, so nothing I didn't know about, unless—"

She interrupted him with a slight chuckle. "No, please, stop there. That's not what I meant."

He nodded. "Okay… good."

"In the last week, the whole time I've been here… for the first time in years, I've felt like a person."

He frowned. "A person?"

"Yeah. I mean, not a cop, and not… a victim, or the daughter of a victim, but a person. Just a regular person. And I'm starting to realize how much I've missed that feeling. And then last night… last night, I started thinking… what if I didn't have to go back? What if I just let them keep my badge and became… a normal person? Would that be the worst thing in the world?"

"No. It wouldn't. If that's what you want."

"I mean, you're right. My mother's case, it's over. And we won. We did our part. We caught everyone involved. And that's why I became a cop in the first place."

"I know that."

"So why not just… I don't know, move on? I would love to just… never have to think about any of this again. Not at the hearing, not now… not ever."

"But you know you would," he said softly.

"Maybe."

"Definitely. This case has been such a big part of who you are. You won't just let it go."

She shrugged. "I let it go for almost ten years before you came along."

"But you went back to it."

"Because it was unfinished. Now it's finished."

He sighed. "Okay. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you _can_ just never think about it again." He didn't believe this, not for a second, but it wasn't the argument he wanted to be having. "And if you really, _truly, _don't want to be a cop anymore, then, _maybe, _letting it go is a valid option. And if that is what you decide, then I will support you. But only if it's really what you want. If you've thought about it, and decided rationally that you want to give up your badge. It can't be because you're too afraid of reliving what happened in that alley."

"I'm not afraid," she snapped.

"Oh, you're not?"

"N—no. I'm just… I'm ready for that chapter of my life to be over."

"You don't sound so sure."

"Well, I am."

"I'm gonna give you an hour," he said. "I'll leave you alone, and you can think about it. After one hour, if you're absolutely positive that you don't want to be a cop anymore, we can start talking about what you might want to do instead. But if there's even a sliver of doubt in your mind, then we will sit down, and we will figure out how to get you comfortable talking about that night. Because, so help me god, if you give up your badge it will be your decision. Not because you were too afraid to fight for it. The Kate Beckett that I know is never afraid to fight for what she knows is right."

He took his empty coffee cup and went inside, leaving her behind him. He looked through the window when he got to the kitchen and found that she hadn't moved, was still staring out at the water, expressionless.

* * *

><p>Almost exactly an hour later, after getting dressed and washing some neglected dishes, he went back out to the deck to confront Kate. He hoped that she'd come to the right conclusion. Whatever she said, he knew that if she just gave up her badge, she'd regret it later. But he knew that she needed to come up with that herself. Arguing about it would only push her away.<p>

But when he got there, he found that she wasn't where he'd left her. He frowned, wondering where she'd gone. "Hey, Kate," he called, hoping for a response. Maybe she was still close enough to hear. "It's been an hour."

Getting nothing, he went down the stairs toward the campfire pit. "Kate?" he tried again. No response.

His heart started beating faster as his mind jumped to the worst case-scenario. She'd left. He'd pushed her too far, and she'd gone away. Maybe back to New York, or maybe off somewhere where no one would find her, where she really could start her life over without the specter of her mother's case hovering over her. Where she really could never think about it again.

But he dismissed this thought almost as quickly as it had occurred to him. She didn't have a car here, and she hadn't taken his. He would've heard the garage door open, and anyway, he knew she wouldn't steal his car. That was ridiculous. She couldn't have gone too far, and she wouldn't have anyway. She was here somewhere.

He walked past the pool and along the beach and found no trace of her. "Kate?" he called again, fruitlessly. He sighed and started back toward the house, hoping that maybe she'd gone inside while he was out here looking for her. On a random whim, like one might open the refrigerator while searching for keys, not really expecting to find anything but running out of places to look, he opened the gate to the pool and peeked inside. And to his surprise, she was there. Her back was to him, her bare feet dangling in the water. He knew she'd heard him open the gate, but she didn't turn around.

"What, you're hiding from me now?" he asked, frustrated. "You had to have heard me calling."

She didn't respond or even move. He sighed, kicked off his flip-flops, and sat down beside her. Part of him expected her to be crying. Why else would she be avoiding him so completely? But when he sat down she didn't turn away from him, and her face was still completely void of any expression. It was like she'd been hypnotized.

"Silent treatment?" he guessed. "Really? What did I do?"

"I know it's been an hour," she said, almost in a whisper. "But I don't have any answers for you."

"Yes you do," he said gently. "You love your job. I know you don't want to lose it. Maybe you became a cop because of what happened to your mom, but I know that's not the only reason you do it."

"Why, then?" she asked, finally turning to look at him. There was no fire in her eyes. She wasn't angry with him. Just the low flicker of uncertainty. Frankly, fire would've comforted him more. "If you know me so well, then why do I do it?"

"To help people," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "The victims. Their families. For justice. So no one else has to go through what you did."

"It doesn't change anything," she said.

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I thought that when this was all over I'd feel some sense of… I don't know, closure."

"And you don't?"

"Not enough. I mean, she's still gone, and it all just seems… kind of pointless, you know? Nothing is going to bring her back."

"But you knew that."

"Yeah, of course I did. But… I don't know. I thought I'd feel better about it."

"And you don't."

She shook her head.

"But you did all that you could do."

"But it wasn't enough." She swallowed, and although there was no evidence of it, he had the sense that she was holding back tears.

"Could anything be enough?"

She shook her head.

Without anything else to say, he let his hand rest on top of hers. She let her lips curl, forming the tiniest trace of a smile.

"Look," he finally said, making little ripples on the surface of the water with his foot. "You don't have to decide right now. We'll go through the hearing, you _will_ get your badge back, and then if you decide that you don't want to be a cop anymore, you can quit. But it'll be your decision."

She sighed. "Maybe I can't."

He frowned. "Can't what?"

"Go through the hearing."

"Of course you can."

"I'm not as sure as you are. You remember what it was like when we first got here."

He nodded. "I remember. But you've made so much progress since then."

She shrugged. "No I haven't. Not really."

"Sure you have. You said it yourself. You've been happy. If that's not progress, I don't know what is."

"I've been happy because I haven't been thinking about it. At all. I've managed to keep it out of my mind. If I start thinking about it again, I'm afraid I'll be right back to square one."

He sighed. "Believe me, I don't want that any more than you do." He remembered all too well what it had been like. The complete distantness during the day, and the nightmares and the way she'd wake up sobbing during the night. The feeling of complete helplessness, that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make her feel better. "But we'll just have to work through it. And that's why we have to start now. The judge isn't going to take 'I don't want to talk about it' or 'I can't think about it' for an answer. You have to be ready. You have to know what you're going to say, or at least be able to talk about it without breaking down. I get that you want to be strong and not let anyone see that you're hurting, and I respect that. But I was there. I know what happened. And you know what else? I know _you_. I saw you in that alley, I saw you in my apartment the next day, and I've seen you every day since. I _know_ you're not okay. So here's your choice. Would you rather fall apart in front of me, or in front of a bunch of strangers who get to decide whether you keep your job?"

He'd meant it, if not exactly a rhetorical question, at least as a question that wasn't supposed to be difficult. But still, she didn't answer right away. She stared at the still water, deep in thought, for a long moment. Then finally, she sighed. "I guess, you."

He let his lips curve into a half-smile. "You don't sound so sure."

She shrugged.

"Look, I promise to take you seriously, if that's what you're worried about."

"No, Castle," she made a sound that almost came close to a laugh. "I know you will. It's not that."

"What, then?"

"Nothing. It's not important."

"Then tell me."

She flipped her foot around the surface of the water absently, making tiny little splashes. "I just don't like it when you see me upset."

He frowned. "Well, I don't like it either, but if I don't see you then I can't help you."

"I don't want to need your help."

"Kate, everyone needs help sometimes."

She kept up the splashing, staring at the water like it was the most interesting thing in the world. "Nikki Heat wouldn't."

"She might. But anyway, you're not Nikki Heat."

"No," she said, starting to trace patterns on the surface of the water with her toe. "I'm not."

He looked straight at her, willing her to meet his eyes. "You're better than Nikki Heat."

She rolled her eyes and kept tracing.

"Look at me."

Somewhat reluctantly, she did.

"You are twice as strong, twice as unpredictable, twice as good a cop, and three times as sexy as Nikki Heat could ever hope to be."

She blushed. "Castle…"

"No," he interrupted. "No 'Castle'. I'm serious. Nikki Heat is a mere shadow of you. That's all. You are the genuine article. And no imitation, not even mine, can ever come close to the original. Nikki Heat is just my character. You're my partner."

"I just… don't want you to think less of me."

"Impossible."

She sighed. "We really have to do this today?"

"Yeah. We really do."

She nodded and began to get up. "Then I'm gonna need more coffee."

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><p><strong>AN:** Reviews please? :)


	15. Distant

**A/N: **This was supposed to be finished sooner, but this chapter and I had a few... disagreements. But I think we managed to resolve most of them. At any rate, it's finished. :) Enjoy!

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><p>They settled in again with two fresh cups of coffee, this time at the dining room table. "You ready?" Castle asked.<p>

Kate shrugged. "As ready as I'm gonna get."

"Alright. Then why don't you just tell me what you remember from that night?"

"Okay… where should I start?"

"The beginning."

"The beginning of what? The _beginning _was my mom's murder, at least that was the beginning for me… but I think that's a little earlier than we need to start."

He nodded. "Okay. So where _do _you think we need to start?"

"Where do you think the judge will want to start?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Well… should we start from Carson?"

"When we figured out he ordered the hit, or when we actually found him?"

"Everyone at the Twelfth knows it was him, and we have solid evidence. That shouldn't be up for debate. Let's go from when we found him."

"Okay. Go."

"Okay, so we found him in the alley. Uh, we parked about a block away so he wouldn't see the car…"

He stopped her. "Rewind a little. They're gonna want to know how we knew he'd be there."

"Right." She nodded, gaining confidence. That part was easy. No one had done anything wrong, or even out of the ordinary. She went through it step by step without hesitation. How they'd traced an anonymous call from someone claiming to have information to an office building nearby. How they'd canvassed employees hoping to find a link to Carson and had seemed to come up empty. How, while scanning through the building's phone records, Castle had noticed something strange: that every phone line in the building began with the same three numbers. Except one. How through a stroke of luck they'd found another building just a few streets away with numbers that began the same way as the odd line from the first building. How Castle's "there are no coincidences" refrain had led them to investigate it, and the phone lines had led them to the alley beside it. How she'd noticed a bit of white paper poking out from underneath what appeared to be a solid brick wall, and had slid it out of the tiny crack between the brick and pavement and realized what it was. How, knowing that Carson himself would have to come back for this, she'd pocketed it and slipped a blank sheet of paper back into the crack to make it appear as if nothing had been changed. How, a few hours later, she'd received a call from the surveillance detail on Carson's apartment informing her that he was leaving the building. Her tone was cool, her voice businesslike.

"That's great," he said as she finished up that part of the story. "You tell the judge everything you just told me, and you'll be fine. What then?"

"Well, Ryan and Esposito were chasing another lead, so you and I went back down to the alley. We had a pretty good idea that he was alone, and we wanted to get there before he left."

"But he wasn't alone," Castle prompted, feeling his heart rate accelerate. They were nearing the difficult part now, and for the first time he realized that it might not be any easier for him to hear than it would be for her to tell. All this time he'd been so focused on how reliving that awful night was going to affect Kate. He hadn't given any thought at all to how he might be affected by it.

_"Castle, stay here, okay? Don't move."_

_ "No way. I'm your backup. That means I'm right behind you."_

_ "No, it doesn't," she told him in an urgent whisper. "Look, you can only back me up as long as they don't kill you, which they will if they see you, without so much as blinking."_

_ "And what's gonna keep them from doing that to you?"_

_ "This." She slid a folded piece of paper out of her back pocket._

_ He nodded, although he wished he believed that would work as vehemently as she seemed to. "Fine, but if anything goes south I'm coming out."_

_ She shook her head. "Anything goes south, and you shoot. You'll have a clear shot from right where you are. These guys are either leaving this alley in cuffs or body bags. There are no other options. They will not get away, not now that we're this close."_

_ Her eyes burned with a fierceness that he'd never seen before, and he found himself nodding, afraid even to decide whether or not he agreed with her. He watched her turn the corner into the alley with his feet rooted to the ground, grasping the handgun she'd given him tightly in his sweaty palm._

He interrupted her before she could get any further. "Okay, already I'm gonna charge you with perjury."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm not under oath."

"I'm gonna make you take an oath if you keep it up."

"Keep _what_ up?"

"Making me sound so pathetic. I wasn't _that_ scared."

"What are you talking about?"

"'Feet rooted to the ground'? 'Sweaty palms'?"

"I didn't say any of that."

"But you were thinking it."

"No… _you_ were thinking it, apparently. Castle, your imagination can't perjure me. And neither can your memory. That's not how it works. Basically, if it doesn't come out of my mouth, you can't hold me responsible for it, no matter what kind of an oath you make me take. It's on you."

"Well…" he sighed, realizing that he'd just incriminated himself. "Then just for the record, I wasn't that scared."

"Oh, you were scared." She smirked. "But you should've been. I mean, I was too. That guy could've easily killed us both."

"Okay, yes, I was scared. But I did at least try to help. It's not like I hid behind the dumpster while you did all the work."

"That's not what I said."

"That's how you made it sound. If you tell that to the judge, that's what he's gonna think."

"Well, it doesn't matter. You're not the one on trial."

"And neither are you. It's just a disciplinary hearing."

She cringed, and for a second he wondered what he'd said wrong. It didn't take him long to figure it out, but before he could say anything she was speaking to him icily. "Castle," she said, "if you want to keep thinking that you're helping me, don't ever say that again."

He frowned, taken aback. He'd been planning to apologize, but now he wasn't sure if he could. Thinking that you're helping me? _Thinking? _Was she really only doing this to humor him? Because he believed, really believed, that it was the right thing. That it would help. But it didn't really matter what he believed. The only thing that mattered was what she believed. And if she really, honestly thought that this was a waste of time, then she wasn't going to get anything out of it anyway. She'd only be able to move backward, and that was the last thing that he wanted.

He stood up. "Fine," he said softly. "Since obviously I'm wasting your time, I'll be outside. But if you can come up with a better way to prepare for your hearing, I suggest you do it, because it's in a week."

She didn't say anything as he slipped out the door. Not that he was expecting her to. If she'd called after him and apologized, he wouldn't have left. But that wouldn't have been like her.

He didn't look back as he walked out to see what she was thinking, whether she was angry or upset or relieved. And that wasn't like him. He liked to keep tabs on her, to know what she was thinking and feeling, and this tendency had only increased over this past week. But right now, he didn't care. He was too angry to summon anything else.

Did she know how much he'd given up for her over the last week? His whole life, basically. He'd put it all on hold. He'd left behind his daughter, his apartment, most everything he owned, his work with the NYPD… nearly everything in the world that he cared about. Nearly.

There had been no doubt in his mind, not until now, that leaving everything behind, just for two weeks, would be worth it. No doubt whatsoever. To get her though these two weeks. To make her believe that losing her badge would not be a death sentence. And finally, and maybe most importantly, to help her get ready for the hearing. To help her be so prepared that there would be no doubt in either of their minds that she could continue to be an NYPD detective for as long as she chose, to the end of her career.

But if she was right, and he was only telling himself that he was helping her in order to make himself feel better about the situation… if, in reality he wasn't doing anything for her that she couldn't do herself… then he shouldn't be here at all. He should be at home with Alexis.

He did miss his daughter. She'd never been at home by herself for this long before. And while he trusted her and he knew that she was fine, he missed her. He looked at his phone, thinking about calling, but he noticed the time and realized it was Monday. She'd still be in school. He'd call later.

He walked down the beach a little ways and then waded into the water, kicking at it angrily. It lapped gently around his feet, unbothered. This incensed him even further. Everything was irritatingly calm today. There were hardly any waves, just a few light ripples. The sky was blue and completely empty of clouds, and somehow that made it seem very far away. Farther than it should've been. Farther than it normally was. He was down here standing in the water, and the sky was way up there doing its own thing. Whatever that was.

But no matter how many times he tried to tell himself that he didn't care, he couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting back to the house. What was she doing now? Was she still thinking about the hearing… and the alley? Or was she compartmentalizing again, pushing all of that aside so she wouldn't have to deal with it? Was she mad at him? Did she have a right to be?

All he'd said was that she wasn't going to be on trial, that it was only a disciplinary hearing. He knew why that was wrong, why it had upset her. This hearing _was_ a big deal. Whatever she said, she didn't want to lose her job. He knew how devastating it would be for her if she did. So yes, he knew that this wasn't _just_ a hearing. It wasn't _just _anything. It mattered. But still, she'd overreacted, hadn't she?

Yes, she had. And her words had hurt him, not that he wanted her to know that. All he wanted was to help her, and he thought he'd been doing that. And he thought they'd made some progress. He'd gotten her to talk through the beginning of the evening that led to the confrontation, and it had gone really well. And then he'd… stopped her.

He had, hadn't he? Why had he done that? Because he hadn't liked the scene that was unfolding inside of his own head. That wasn't her fault. It didn't have anything to do with her. And she knew what he was doing. She'd realized it before he had. What if that was why she'd gotten angry with him, and the comment about it only being a hearing had just pushed her over the edge? Because she was right. He hadn't been helping. He'd been holding her back. She might've been fully ready to get to the difficult portion of the night, to talk to him about it calmly, pretending that he was the judge. But he hadn't been ready to hear it, and he'd stopped her.

He looked out into the water and watched a single whitecap churn and eventually dissipate. It had no obvious source, given the relative calm of the water surrounding it. It must have been wind, a random gust off in the distance, invisible to the eye, or else maybe a riptide or a school of fish, some source below the surface that, from this distance, couldn't be determined. He found himself wondering if the sky, far away as it seemed, knew the cause of the rough water. Perhaps it had sent the gust of wind, or perhaps it hadn't caused anything at all, but from its position above the water, always watching, aware of the ocean's every movement even if it never let on, it could see whatever disturbance beneath the surface had caused the visible wave. The sky might not have responded in a way that he or anyone else could see, but that didn't mean that it didn't notice. That it didn't feel something.

Again he gazed out past the disturbance, past, in fact, everything else visible, and to the horizon, where the water and the sky came together. No matter how distant they seemed in the here and now, the horizon would always be there. The two would always meet, merge, and become one at that thin, faint blue line where nothing else could be seen.

He sighed and waded back up the beach to the place in the sand where he'd left his shoes. He knew how immature it had been to leave the way he had. Even if she hadn't had the right to be mad at him before, she certainly did now. Yes, he'd been hurt, but walking away wasn't how to handle it. He was supposed to be there for her, not running away from her.

When he got back to the house she was still there, sitting at the table exactly as he'd left her. Wordlessly, he sat down across from her, where he'd been before. The only difference was that now a notebook sat in front of her, one of his, he realized, open to a blank page.

He waited for a few seconds for her to say something, but she stared at the lined paper without looking up.

"I'm sorry," he finally murmured. "I'm an idiot."

"No you're not," she sighed.

"I know the hearing is a big deal."

"I know you do. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"You were right, though."

She finally looked up and met his eyes. "No I wasn't. I was stupid. I couldn't do this without you. There's no way."

"You wouldn't even be in this situation if it wasn't for me," he pointed out.

"How do you figure that?"

"I'm the one who got you to bring back your mother's case in the first place. I got you into all of this."

"I don't believe that."

"That's your prerogative. I do."

"Look, Castle. My mom's case was a part of my life way before I met you. I might've pushed it aside for a few years, but it never totally went away, and it was always gonna come back for me. I'm just glad that you were around when it did. With you there, I didn't have to worry about getting lost in it, because I knew you'd be there to pull me back."

He sighed, wishing that he still believed himself capable of this. "What were you doing with the notebook?" he asked.

"Oh." She looked down, embarrassed. "Well, you were right. I do need to start thinking about the hearing. And since you left, I thought I might try to write down what happened… I thought it might help, but I didn't really get anywhere." She smiled at him sheepishly. "And I stole your notebook. Sorry."

He chuckled. "It's okay. I wish it'd helped."

She shrugged. "I guess I need to talk through it. I don't think writing is gonna help. Ready to try again?"

He hadn't been expecting this. "You serious?"

"Why not? It's not like it went really badly before, we just got a little off-track."

He sighed. "Look, I know I've been telling you that you could talk about all of this with me because I was there, and you won't be telling me anything that I don't already know… but now, I don't know. I think I'm the last person you need to be talking to."

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean, I know how difficult it must be for you to talk about that night… but I don't think it would be any easier for me to listen to it. And I don't know how I'm gonna help you relive it when I can't even do it myself."

To his surprise, she smiled. "Castle, that's why it has to be you."

He frowned. "What?"

"Look, I know that you're not okay about that night. I was there, remember? I know it affected you, and I know you're not over it. I've known that all along."

"Then why didn't you say anything? Because I just figured it out about twenty minutes ago."

"Because I didn't think you'd ever admit it, Mr. 'Oh, I wasn't scared.'"

She'd said that last part in such an unflattering, mocking way that he couldn't help but smile. "I guess I was just so busy thinking about you that I didn't give any thought to how I'd react when I finally did get you to start talking about it."

"You're too sweet for your own good sometimes," she said, almost teasingly. But not quite.

"So what do we do now? Do you want to go back to New York? Because I still think you need someone to help you talk through that night, and as much as I wish it could be me, it's pretty obvious that it can't."

"And why can't it?"

He frowned. Had she not been listening to anything he'd said? "Because—" He gaped at her, looking for another way to phrase what he'd already tried to explain.

But she cut in before he had a chance. "I can't talk about it and you can't listen to it. But we're both gonna have to at the hearing. You're gonna be there too, don't forget. Why can't we help each other? Look, the whole time we've been here, besides that one day you were sick, you've been taking care of me. It's not that I don't appreciate it, I do, but I think it would be better if we could take care of each other. Don't you think so?"

He frowned. He didn't. "I don't want you to have to take care of me."

She smiled. "See, so now you finally get what I've been trying to tell you. I don't want you to have to take care of me either. But guess what? I don't mind doing it for you. And I know you don't mind doing it for me. So how about we just start again, and we try to get through this thing without either one of us breaking down or walking out? If we can't do it, we'll just keep trying until we can. We have a week."

He nodded, and suddenly he found that didn't regret anything. He didn't regret interrupting her speech, or making light of the hearing, or even walking out, childish as it had been. Because this stubborn woman before him, so unwilling to take no for an answer, especially when it came to accepting her own flaws… this was Beckett. It was the first he'd seen of her since that night in the alley, and nothing could've been more welcome. "I think that sounds like a plan," he said.

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><p><strong>AN: **I haven't started the next chapter yet, so I can't make any promises about how long it'll take until the next update... only that it will happen eventually. :) BUT in about a week and a half my semester will be over (yay!), so that should speed things up writing-wise. :) It never does... but it SHOULD. That was not a helpful comment.

Ooh, and the water/sky metaphors are back. :) As you might have noticed. I'm starting to get rather attached to those.

Reviews are wonderful. Thanks in advance! :)


	16. Not Okay

**A/N: **Hey, look! New chapter! Hopefully I'll be better about updating now that my semester's over. We'll see how it goes. :)

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><p>He felt the cool metal of the trigger beneath his finger as he held it trained at the assailant's head. He could hear her voice echoing in his ears, as if the words had just been spoken: <em>Anything goes south, and you shoot.<em> This definitely qualified as south. In fact, they were getting dangerously close to the equator. But the gun was shaking visibly in his hand, and he'd never trusted his aim less. Beckett's head was just a few inches from her captor's, and if he was just a little off…

The gun in his hand wasn't the only one he had to worry about. Carson's weapon was pointed straight at the detective's heart, and it was clear that he intended to fire. Even if he failed, the burly man who had her in a near chokehold trying to keep her still held his own gun with the barrel pressed directly against her back.

He watched her struggling against this man and tried to tune out Carson's constant stream of verbal abuse. It would only distract him. He wasn't helpless, he told himself, he just had to act quickly. He'd have to shoot one, and then take out the other before the first realized what had happened. But he kept changing his mind about which one to go after first. Carson's reflexes were faster, and Carson, after all, had been the one who'd ordered the hit on Beckett's mother. His brain told him that he was the logical first target. But the other man kept tightening his hold on her neck and he could tell that it was becoming difficult for her to breathe, let alone fight back, and his heart told him that if either of these men needed to die, it was him.

Then there was another voice somewhere in the back of his mind, one he was trying to tune out, that kept reminding him that he'd never killed anyone before. He knew he'd never regret saving his partner's life if he did, in fact, succeed, but what if he didn't, and he still ended up killing a man? Would taking someone's life change him? Would it harden him? Change his view of the world? Make him less of a father to Alexis? This was something he would've liked to discuss with Beckett, but now was clearly not the time.

And then there was the even worse scenario. What if he misfired and she was the one who he shot? He knew that he wouldn't be able to live with the knowledge that he'd killed her, no matter how accidentally. That was not an option.

He hadn't even made his decision yet when he heard the gunshot and saw her body crumple and fall to the ground. Carson and his accomplice exchanged a grin, an actual _grin_, and took off. Immediately he abandoned his post behind the dumpster and ran to her side. "Beckett," he said as he knelt down beside her. "Hey, you're okay, right? You're fine." But she wasn't. Her eyes stared up at him, unseeing. "Beckett!" he called again, trying to jar her out of her unconscious state. He got no response. "Kate, look at me. _Look_ at me. Not like that, _look." _Her expression didn't change. "Kate!" he whimpered, feeling tears starting to pool in his eyes.

He pressed his ear to her strangely bloodless chest and heard nothing. No breathing. No heartbeat. It was too late. She was gone.

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><p>"Castle."<p>

He pulled the blanket over his head, annoyed by whoever was trying to wake him up. He didn't want to be awake. Not if his partner, his best friend, the one person besides his daughter who he cared about more than anything else in the world, was dead. And it was his fault. He hadn't been quick enough. He'd let them kill her. And with that knowledge, he wanted to lay here in the dark by himself and let his tears soak into the pillow. That was all he wanted to do.

But this person was insistent. "Castle," he heard again. "Come on, wake up, it's okay."

The voice sounded familiar. If he didn't know better, he'd say it was… but it couldn't be. She was dead. He'd watched her die.

"Oh my _God_, you are a sound sleeper," the voice said this time, sounding irritated if a bit shaken. "You need to wake up,_ now."_

He felt someone shaking his shoulder, and not gently. Suddenly he realized where he was, why he was here, and who it was, still very much alive, that was trying to wake him up. He tried to wipe his face on the pillowcase before he turned to look at her, which seemed inevitable, so she didn't find out that he'd been crying. "Hey," he managed to whisper, meeting her eyes. Eyes that looked back. She'd never been more beautiful to him.

"Castle, what the hell?" On the surface she looked angry, but there was something about the knit of her eyebrows that let him know that anger was not her primary feeling right now, however she tried to mask it. "Why were you yelling my name in your sleep?"

"Uh…" He couldn't tell her that he was now the one having dreams about that night. She was the one who was supposed to be damaged. Not him. He needed to hold it together. He needed to be stronger than that. For her. And even if he couldn't, he needed to make her believe that he was. "I don't remember," he lied feebly. "Must have been a dream. Dirty, maybe."

She rolled her eyes. "You're such a liar."

"What time is it?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"I don't know, early. You're not getting out of telling me what's up."

"Nothing's 'up,' I just had a dream. It's fine. Time for coffee?"

He started to get up, but she pushed his shoulder back down. "No. You're not getting out of talking about this. Period."

"I told you, I don't remember. There's nothing to talk about."

"Castle. You don't just wake up crying and then not remember why."

He wiped his eyes with the comforter self-consciously. So she had been able to tell. "Forget it. It's no big deal."

"It _is_ a big deal, and I won't forget it. We made a deal, remember? We're supposed to help each other make it through this hearing in one piece? How can I do that if you won't at least tell me what's bothering you?"

"What makes you think it has anything to do with that?"

"Well it does, doesn't it?"

He looked down, finding that he couldn't hold eye contact with her while he was trying to lead her to believe something untrue.

"It just makes sense," she explained gently. "I know it was on your mind last night. What happened? In your dream?"

"It doesn't matter. It was just a dream."

"Castle, come on."

"_Beckett_," he said pointedly, "I'm fine."

She cringed a little at his use of her last name, and he literally rolled his eyes. He'd been enjoying the familiarity of calling her Kate so he hadn't complained, but he noticed that she was still calling him "Castle" almost every single time she addressed him, and, frankly, he was really starting to think that her sudden discomfort with her own name was stupid. It was about time that he stopped indulging it.

"Look," he said, "I'm sorry if I woke you up. But there's nothing I need to talk about. Now, either go back to bed or let me get up and make coffee."

"You didn't wake me up," she murmured.

He frowned. "You were awake? Isn't it kind of early?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"You did _go_ to sleep last night, didn't you?"

She shrugged again. But this time she was the one not making eye contact.

He sighed. "You're not gonna go back to that now, are you? You were doing so much better."

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Well, why? What were you thinking about?"

"What were you dreaming about?" she countered.

He sighed. They could play this game. They were both good at it. It could go on for days, and neither would break. But now it was Tuesday. There were six days until the hearing, and they'd be heading back to the city in five. It didn't leave time for juvenile games. Just this once, he would forfeit. "Carson shot you," he said softly. "And then he ran away. By the time I got to you, it was too late." He swallowed the lump that began to form again in his throat just thinking about it. He would not allow himself to cry again, especially now that he could see clearly that she was just fine.

"I died?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well… yeah."

"And that's why you were so upset?"

"Of course."

"Well, look. I'm right here, and I'm fine. Okay?"

He nodded. "I know."

She looked into his eyes, frowning. When he looked back, he could see how tired she was. He wanted to send her back to bed, to let her sleep away the entire day if that was what she needed. But the way she was looking at him, he could tell that this wasn't going to happen. Just as he'd been studying her, now she was studying him. And he understood what this meant: everything was going to change. She'd been serious about what she'd said the day before, about them taking care of each other. He didn't like it. She had enough to worry about without adding him to the list. But he knew that there'd be no talking her out of it, especially now. Now that she understood that she wasn't the only one hurting.

"Your turn," he prompted. "I told you mine. What's keeping you up?"

"Right now? You."

"How about before that?"

"Honestly?"

"Please."

"…you."

He frowned. "Explain?"

"What you said yesterday, about it not being any easier for you to hear about that night than it is for me to talk about it."

"What about it?"

"I just don't like that you got pulled into this. If you want to go back to New York and be with Alexis, forget any of this ever happened… you should do it."

He shook his head. "No I shouldn't. You were right. I'm going to have to listen to all of it at the hearing anyway. It's better to be prepared."

"You don't have to go to the hearing."

He frowned. "Of course I do. I'm a witness, aren't I?"

She shrugged. "Not really. Like you said, it's not a trial. If you don't want to go, I can get you out of it."

"And how would that look?"

"That's for me to worry about."

"Forget it. If there's any chance that my being there will help you get your badge back, then I'm gonna be there. And even if there wasn't, I'd still want to be there just to support you. Will it be easy? No, probably not. But how many things worth doing are? We're gonna figure this out. We'll get through it."

She nodded, trying to stifle a yawn.

He smiled. She was adorable when she was tired. He held out his arm to the side a little, resting it against the bed frame. "Come here," he coaxed.

She frowned. "What?"

"Just come here."

She stared at his arm. "There?"

"Just for a second."

Hesitantly, she slid into position beside him, and he wrapped his arm around her. It looked like she might try to squirm away, but then she relaxed, letting her eyes close.

"Comfy?" he asked.

"Mmhmm." She leaned into his side. "Feel better now?"

He nodded. "Much better. But you know what? I need you to stop worrying about me. You already have enough on your mind."

"Not happening."

He sighed. "This is ridiculous. We're never gonna get anywhere if we keep arguing about this."

She nodded. "I agree."

"So what do we do?"

"Castle, were you not listening to me at all yesterday?"

He frowned. "What?"

"Remember? You take care of me, I take care of you? You're good at the first part, but you _suck_ at the second."

He chuckled. "Excuse me?"

"I know I'm normally not the person to talk, but I really think I've been getting better about telling you what's on my mind."

He nodded. "Yeah, you've been good."

"So here's the deal. You do the same, and there won't be any more arguing."

"The same what?"

"Just talk to me. Look, you say that I have enough on my mind without worrying about you, and you're not wrong, so why don't you just make it easier for me? Whether you realize it or not, I can tell when you're upset about something. If you'd just tell me what it is without making me nag you about it, then I could just help you through it and we could move on to the next thing."

"Hey, I told you about the dream, didn't I?"

"Only under duress."

"Just trying to get you back into being a cop."

"Can you be serious for one second?"

"I _was_ being serious. I thought it was time to lighten the mood. Too early? I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just agree."

He sighed. "I will try to let you know what I'm thinking."

But she wasn't satisfied. She pulled herself away from him and met his eyes, frowning. "Why is that so hard for you?"

"Wasn't it hard for you?" he countered.

"Yeah, I guess. At first. It gets easier."

He shrugged. "I guess I'm just not there yet."

"You should be." She seemed to relax a little but still frowned. "Castle?" she finally asked.

"Yeah?"

"You know I care about you… right?"

He hesitated. "Yeah. Of course. We're partners."

"But… it's not just because you're my partner. I care about you because… you're you."

He wasn't sure what to say to that. "Okay," he finally said. "I care about you too."

She nodded. "I know you do. I'm just not sure I'm very good at letting you know that it works both ways. And that's why I want you to talk to me. Not just because of the hearing. Because if there's something bothering you… that matters to me. I need to know that you're okay before I can be okay."

"I'm fine," he said. He smiled, trying to convince her. "Okay? I _am_ okay."

She shook her head. "No. If you're having nightmares about that night, if you can't even bear to listen to me talk about it, then you're obviously not okay. But you don't have to be. Do you remember what you told me last week? On Saturday, before we came here, when I was at your place?"

He frowned. He was sure he'd said a lot of things, but he didn't remember anything specific. "What?" he asked.

"'It doesn't make you weak,'" she quoted. "'It doesn't make you flawed. It just makes you human.' That's what you said. And you were right."

It was strange, hearing his own words tossed back at him this way. He remembered saying it, remembered how frustrated he'd been with her for insisting that she was fine when she so clearly wasn't, but he hadn't ever considered applying those words to himself. But then, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the circumstances weren't really different. How could he expect her to take his advice if he couldn't even do it? "I couldn't protect you," he breathed. "All those things he was saying. Carson. All those threats. And I couldn't do… anything."

"That's not your job."

"I'm your partner."

"But you're not a cop." She leaned back in, this time even closer than before, letting the back of her head rest against his arm. "You did nothing wrong that night, Castle," she said. "Let that be the least of your concerns."

But he couldn't. He knew that he couldn't. He could have done things differently, could have tried to shoot the two men, as he'd been instructed, rather than giving up and calling Montgomery. If there hadn't happened to be a team in the area, if it had taken the backup longer to show up… well, his dream could certainly have been reality. And then it would have been his fault that she was dead. As it was, it was his fault that she was in trouble, and that was bad enough. If he could've just done what she'd told him…

But it was too late to think about that now. It wouldn't do any good. "It's really early," he murmured. "Isn't it?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "It is."

He let himself sink down into the bed, and she started to pull away, probably, he guessed, to go back to her own bed. But he found that he didn't want her to go. When he closed his eyes, he didn't want to be able to imagine her face as he'd seen it before, blank and lifeless in the alley. If she was here, if he could feel the warmth of her body next to his, hear her breathing, smell the delicate scent of her cherry shampoo, then maybe the nightmare wouldn't come back. Maybe, he hoped, this solid evidence that she was alive and well would be enough even for his subconscious to process. But how could he explain this, especially as his already tired mind was getting closer and closer to sleep? He didn't want her to get the wrong idea. They couldn't afford another breakdown in communication, not with so few days left. He wasn't looking for anything to change. He just wanted her here. Right here.

"Don't," he murmured, letting a hand rest on her shoulder, hoping it would coax her to stay. "Please?"

For a second, she hesitated. "Castle…"

His heart sank in a way he couldn't account for, and he let his hand drop. No matter what happened, what either of them said, or how many times she insisted that he use her first name, he was always just going to be Castle to her. Maybe that shouldn't have bothered him so much. It was his last name, after all, and it was what she'd always called him. She'd only used his first name a handful of times, and it was usually when she was making fun of him. So really, why did it matter?

But before he could even finish this pointless internal soliloquy, he realized that she wasn't leaving after all. She was sliding in between the sheets of his bed and letting her head rest on the spare pillow. She kept to her own side of the bed, and in turn he kept to his, but she was here, and she was okay. And with that knowledge and that proof, he could go back to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Sorry if that beginning part made you nervous. But I guess that was the idea, since clearly it scared Castle. :P Anyway.

So I noticed something funny that happened at the end of "Always." This... isn't so AU anymore. I mean, it still IS, since it's still set at the end of season three, and everything that happens here is different, but the idea of Beckett not being a cop anymore and hanging out in the Hamptons with Castle... not so far-fetched.

Reviews make me happy. Leave some, please? Thanks as always! :)


	17. Writing

**A/N: **Hey, look! A new chapter! And it's only... four... months... later. Well, that's embarrassing. However. It's done now. I very much hope that the next chapter won't take that long to finish. But this semester is already looking a bit intense, so I'm not gonna start making promises. Anyway. For the moment, let's focus on the fact that there IS a new chapter for you to read. So, go on. Read it. It won't bite. I promise. I guess I should stop typing now so you can actually do that.

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><p>When he awoke, she was still sound asleep on the bed beside him. His first thought was that in all of his various fantasies about waking up beside Kate Beckett, this situation had never occurred to him. It wasn't comfortable, as he'd always imagined it would be. There was no feeling of oneness. In fact, now, asleep beside her in the same bed, he felt more separate from her than he ever had. While asleep, they'd kept on opposite sides of the mattress, never coming close to touching. Even their unconscious minds understood that they weren't ready for this step.<p>

He got out of bed slowly, being careful not to wake her. He knew that he'd gotten more sleep than she had through the night, and he wanted to let her catch up. Still, when he looked at the time he saw that it was already after ten, and, aware that she wouldn't be sleeping for much longer no matter what he did, he began making coffee.

The previous night had been a confused tangle of emotions. That much was inarguable. Maybe he'd been right. Maybe having her there beside him was what had kept him from having more of those unsettling dreams. But another thing he was sure about was that, no matter how platonic he claimed to himself that the sleeping arrangement had been, his feelings toward her didn't end there. It would've been easier if they did, but it was in the same way that it would've been easier if he could fly. If the coffee machine that he was loading could fill itself. If the hearing, now less than a week away, could resolve in Beckett's favor without her ever having to leave the Hamptons. These ideas were simply not fact, and pretending that they were wouldn't help. Nothing would change. He'd never move an inch. The coffee would never be made. And Kate would never again be Detective Beckett. Hard as it was to admit, sometimes stagnation could be just as dangerous as change.

He forced his thoughts to change courses. Now was not the time. He and Kate both still had miles to go before they'd be ready for the hearing, and it was already Tuesday. Something had to change. Maybe it was him.

The next time she wanted to talk about it, he was going to be ready. He'd go through the whole memory, everything that had happened in the alley that night, or at least as much of it as he could remember, by himself, before she even got out of bed. That way at least he could wrap his mind around everything, and then maybe when he heard her tell it he'd be able to support her, rather than making it even more difficult.

He crept back into the bedroom and took his notebook from the nightstand, being just as careful as before not to disturb her. He glanced at the bed on his way out, and she still seemed to be sleeping soundly. He closed the door noiselessly and went back to the kitchen.

He sat down at the table with his coffee and nodded at the blank page he opened to, surprised that he hadn't thought of this sooner. The empty page was fickle – it could be his best friend or his most bitter adversary. He couldn't count the number of hours he'd spent staring at a blank piece of paper or Word document, willing words to appear on their own, sure that they'd never come any other way. But then there were times when the words seemed to come without being asked. And when he was going through something difficult and didn't know who to turn to for help, the page was always there to help him collect his thoughts. No matter how hard he banged the keyboard or how many pens he broke, the page was always there. It might not have been sympathetic, exactly, but it was _there_. It would always listen. And sometimes that was all he needed.

He thought he'd start at the place where Beckett had stopped last time – or, rather, the place where he'd stopped her. When she'd stepped into the alley, leaving him watching from around a corner.

* * *

><p><em>"Detective Beckett," Carson said, flashing his teeth in a brief but nauseating smile. "I was hoping you'd show up."<em>

_ "Were you?" she asked, keeping her face blank. "I'm glad. Because I have a few things that I'd like to discuss with you."_

_ "You know, I met you once before," he said, ignoring her comment. "I'm sure you don't remember. You were with your mother, out shopping. She was beginning to stick her nose in places where it didn't belong, and I was… keeping tabs."_

_ I couldn't see her, but her voice registered clear disgust. "You stalked her before you had her killed?"_

_ "'Stalked' is such an ugly word. I wouldn't put it quite like that. I just had to keep an eye on her. And I have to say, it wasn't unpleasant. She was a bitch, but she was hot. And then there was you. From the first time I saw you, I admired you. You have a strong will, and a nice ass."_

_ I was more aware than ever of the gun in my hand. It was a perfect shot, straight to Carson, unobstructed. It would shut him up, and permanently. But as Carson had a weapon and an accomplice, it could also get the both of us killed. Still, I didn't like the way he was talking to her._

_ "Shut up," she said simply, too experienced to be shaken by a simple inappropriate comment. "If you can't answer my questions here, I'm gonna need you to come with me."_

_ Again, he ignored her. "I wanted you, Kate. But the timing was wrong. I needed to remain hidden. But now…" He trailed off, his features slowly twisting back into that horrible grin. "This is my chance. My chance to finally get everything I always wanted. You could make it easier on yourself and give it to me voluntarily… but if you don't, I've always appreciated a struggle."_

_ "You want a struggle?" she demanded, her voice full of that fierceness that sometimes comes when she's dealing with a difficult suspect. "I'll give you a struggle."_

_ She lunged toward him, and I had to physically grab the side of the dumpster to stop myself from doing the same. There were two men with guns in the alley with her, I reminded myself. The second I let myself be visible, things would surely go south quickly. And they weren't exactly going well as it was. I was of more use to her here, hidden and armed._

_ Carson nodded to the other man, and, so quickly that I almost missed it, he somehow got behind her and grabbed her in a kind of chokehold, his arm wrapped around her throat. Under normal circumstances I'm sure she would have been able to evade him, but she was so focused on Carson that she hadn't seen this coming. She tried to push his arm away, but he was strong, and didn't budge. She growled, frustrated._

_ Carson smirked. "Good start. Your mother, she was much more reserved… proper. I like my women a little wild."_

_ I wanted to shoot him. In fact, I'd never wanted to shoot anyone more in my life. Derrick Storm would've done it by now. Nikki Heat probably would've too. Detective Beckett… she looked like she probably would've shot him if she would've been able to reach her gun. But Richard Castle… Richard Castle was too preoccupied by the gun that the flunky was holding with the barrel pressed up against her lower back. If he shot Carson, what would stop this other man from shooting her?_

_ "I have your list," she said, her voice low, but projecting so that Carson could surely hear her._

_ For a second, his grin fell. "What list?"_

_ "The list of all the people you employ. All your infamous connections. It was in the wall there, wasn't it?" She tried to nod her head to indicate the place where we'd found it, but her range of motion was very small. "You let anything happen to me, and my partners will make sure it's all over the media."_

_ The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. "You really think I'd leave something like that out in the open?"_

_ "Hidden in plain sight," she countered. "Pretty smart. No one would think it could be anything important. But it is, isn't it?"_

_ "Important, yes," he said, his smile widening. "It got you here, to me. Thinking you could bait me. But in reality, I'm the one who baited you. Detective Beckett's last stand. I'll get what I've wanted from the first time I saw you… and you'll never leave this alley alive."_

_ At this point, I'd heard enough. Maybe I couldn't shoot, but I still had my phone. Paying no more attention to what was going on in the alley, I speed-dialed Captain Montgomery and whispered into the phone, as fast as I could and as loud as I dared. I gave him our location and asked him to send help, and then tucked my phone back into my pocket._

_ "This would be a lot easier if you'd stop struggling," I heard Carson say as I tuned back in. "For you, I mean. I really couldn't care less. As I said, I like my women with a little… spark. Your problem, Katie, is that you always overestimate your own strength."_

_ "It's _Beckett_," she cut in._

_ He ignored her, and continued with his monologue. "You're not weak, of course. But you believe yourself to be stronger than you are. You think you're superhuman. Wonder Woman." His face twisted into an ugly grin. "Nikki Heat."_

_ "Do you ever shut up?" she demanded._

_ Carson ignored her, but his assistant tightened his hold on her throat and I could hear her gasping, trying to fill her lungs with air. It took everything I had to keep from bursting into the alley. I aimed the gun she'd given me, seriously considering shooting. I aimed first at Carson, the one who I knew that Beckett would have me aim for, the one who'd ordered the hit on Johanna, and had done the same to so many other people. But I couldn't seem to pull my gaze away from the other man. From the bit of a side view that I had, I could see that she was fighting against him less now. She was still trying, but it was slower now, and her breath was coming in gasps, fighting against the pressure of his massive arms against her throat and chest. This was the man who I really wanted to shoot. I aimed at him… but what if I missed? What if he moved at the last second?_

_ As soon as the horrible possibility that I might accidentally hit Kate occurred to me, my hand started to shake. And then I knew that I couldn't shoot. I couldn't. It would be too much of a risk._

_ "Freeze!"_

_ The word echoed through the alley, bouncing off the solid brick walls. Cops started streaming in from all directions. At the time, I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought that what I'd done, making that call, had saved her. But now…_

* * *

><p>As he drew a shaky breath, he was aware of the aroma of coffee, coming from somewhere much closer than the kitchen, where he'd left the pot brewing. All too willingly he took his eyes away from the notebook page, and saw one of his mugs, full of the hot, brown liquid, set on the table just behind it. He followed the inevitable conclusion and continued to lift his head until his eyes locked with hers.<p>

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

"Couple minutes." She drummed her long fingers against the side of her own coffee mug. "I'm surprised you didn't hear me sit down."

"Well, I was… writing," he explained. All the words seemed to be trapped somewhere between his brain and his pen. Suddenly, forcing any through his mouth seemed a momentous feat.

"Can I ask about what?"

There was something in her eyes, something about the way she was looking at him, that gave him the feeling that she'd guessed. So rather than trying to conjure a verbal response, he simply nodded.

She bit her bottom lip and gave her own nod, her own silent sign of acknowledgement. She swirled the coffee around her mug before taking a sip. When she put it down, she gestured to the notebook. "May I?" she asked.

He shifted in his seat. He'd never intended for her to read it. But he'd never intended for her to read anything in his notebook, and that hadn't exactly worked out. If she read it, then at least he wouldn't have to explain what he'd been doing. Without a word, he slid it across the table.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** That IS kind of a cliffhanger. So I'll try not to leave you there for too long. :) Anyway. Reviews are awesome. If nothing else, then at least to let me know that there are still people reading after that rather extensive and unplanned hiatus. :P Thanks, as always!


	18. Regrouping

**A/N: **Hello, all you wonderful people who are still reading this despite my tendency to leave you hanging for INSANELY long periods of time. Sorry about that. I'll try to be better. But, lo and behold, an update! Good things come to those who wait, apparently. Well, hopefully it's a good thing. I guess you'll have to judge that for yourself.

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><p>He took his coffee in long, slow gulps as she read. He didn't want to watch her. Didn't want to see how she reacted to what he remembered of that night. Didn't want to register the changes in her face as her mind filled in the few gaps with information that he didn't know. He didn't look up until his coffee was gone. She put down the notebook as he put down the mug.<p>

Their eyes met, and her lips curved up very slightly. But it wasn't a happy smile. It was more sympathetic. "You didn't do anything wrong," she assured him in a soft voice.

"I didn't really do anything right, either," he whispered.

"Do you really think I'd be here with you right now if I blamed you for anything that happened that night? I know that it was hard for you. You did what you thought was best, and that's all I can ask for. Maybe you did save my life. It wouldn't be the first time."

He frowned into his coffee, trying to believe her. The silence was heavy. Loaded. Waiting to be broken.

Kate was the one who finally pierced it. "We've been in these kinds of situations before, Castle," she said gently. "It's never affected you like this. If you want to walk away…"

That got his attention. He looked straight up from his coffee and into her eyes, meeting them defiantly. "No. We're in this together. I'm not going anywhere."

"But it's over. We're not _in_ anything."

He sighed. "You know what I mean."

"No, I don't know if I do. I don't even know if you do. This hearing… we don't have to relive all of this. It already happened. We were there. We both were. And I'm grateful that you want to help me, I really am, but I wonder if we wouldn't both sleep better if we just let everything come out at the hearing. It's not like we have to practice our speeches… they've already been written."

"But we want to be prepared. We want you to have the best chance possible to get your badge back."

She shrugged. "It's not up to us, though. I know you want to believe that it is, but it isn't."

"But what if—"

"What if what?" The question interrupted its own answer. "What if I lose? What if I'm not allowed to be a cop anymore? Would that be the worst thing in the world? For years, I thought it would. That losing my badge would send me into some kind of an…" she shrugged, as if she was searching for the right words, but he had a feeling they were already on the tip of her tongue, "…identity crisis, or something. But this past week has been fine. No, more than fine. Refreshing. Do you know how long it's been since I've had a break? Not just a day off, but an actual break, with no cases to think about, without Ryan or Esposito calling with new information, without the thought of all the paperwork I'd have to catch up on when I got back?"

He studied her, almost expecting to find some flaw; some clue that the woman sitting across from him wasn't really Beckett at all, but an extremely realistic Beckett impostor. Maybe sent by IA to convince him to stop trying. But if there was one thing he knew, it was his detective's face, and every feature, freckle, and crease was exactly where it had always been. "Are you saying you don't want to go back?"

"No," she said automatically, but then she shrugged. "I don't know. No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying that… whatever happens happens. Either way… I'll be okay. And I think it might be a better use of our time to spend the five days left before the hearing relaxing a little and getting our bearings back than trying to relive that night and stressing ourselves out."

He couldn't make himself get comfortable with that idea, and he was surprised that she could. It felt too much like giving up. "Kate… if we get through the hearing and you win, you know you won't _have_ to go back to the force."

She nodded, a tiny smile forming on her lips. "But you know that I will."

He returned the smile, and realized that it was the first time that morning his face had hosted that particular expression. He did know. "I have no problem with the idea of your not being a cop," he told her. "But I do have a problem with the idea of your being forced to leave against your will. If you leave, it should be your choice."

"But I'm not going to choose to leave, Castle. You know I wouldn't do that. And I'm not going to give up, either. Of course I'll do whatever I can to win at the hearing. But one of the first things I learned in therapy after my mother's death is that nothing good comes from dwelling on the past. And that's exactly what we've been doing."

"So… what do you want to do?"

"What we were doing a couple of days ago. Just… relaxing. Having fun."

He thought about that as he sipped his coffee. Now that there was less than a week left before the hearing, it would feel like they were avoiding reality. And they would be. But she was right. They both knew what had happened in that alley. He knew what he'd seen, and she knew what she'd done. And it wasn't as if they were planning to lie, or even to re-organize the facts in some misleading way. He'd just wanted to make sure they could present them as professionally as possible. But really… how much would that matter? If Beckett—if either of them—fell apart during their retelling, the other one would be there to help pick up the pieces, just as they were here. The only difference was that here, they were alone. At the hearing, they wouldn't be. He had no idea whether the judge would treat emotion with sympathy or view it as a sign of weakness. But Kate was right… that was out of his control. Maybe she was right about everything else, too. Maybe they would be better off to take a few days to rest and regroup.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" he finally asked.

She nodded slowly. "I'm sure."

"Then we'll try it." _All we have to lose_, his internal monologue filled in, _is everything._

But even as he thought it, he knew that it wasn't true. Not everything, no. Even Kate was beginning to realize that. Her job was just one aspect of her life… and his. But just because it was what had brought them together didn't mean it had to be the glue that kept them that way. Weren't they here now, away from the precinct, without any cases, and closer than ever?

If she went back to her job, he'd rejoin her as her partner, and nothing would change. If she didn't, he, as promised, would do whatever he could to help her figure out what she _was_ going to do. In either situation, he knew his role. And he was beginning to think that she was right. Whichever way the hearing went, it would be okay.

* * *

><p>The next few days melded together in a haze of water and sun. The weather actually held up, the early-summer Hamptons sun shining brighter and more persistently than it had since they'd arrived. As for everything else… it seemed to follow suit. The days were full of sand and surf and lighthearted chit-chat. And during the night… well, they slept.<p>

He didn't have any more nightmares, and the night that they'd ended up in the same bed was never mentioned again. But he woke each morning without really feeling rested, like he could use at least another couple of hours, but knowing that he'd never be able to fall back to sleep.

Kate was the same. She didn't say anything, but he could see it in her face. The shadows under her eyes. The way she reached for her coffee each morning, like it was the only thing keeping her going, and the increased frequency of the second cup in the afternoon. The way she smiled and joked – forced, but trying to be careful not to let him see that it was.

The hearing was drawing closer each day, and no matter what either one of them said, it was important. The closer it came, the faster the time seemed to go, the gravity produced by the enormity of the event drawing them toward it. He decided to respect her wishes and didn't bring it up, but he was having difficulty ignoring its closeness, and he had a feeling that she was too.

It wasn't until Saturday – the day before they were to head back to the city – that things began to change again. He found her in the kitchen making coffee – the third pot to be made that day. He was tempted to try to force her to talk, but instead just leaned against the counter casually. "How's it going?"

It would've been very easy for her to - not lie, exactly, but to avoid the question he'd been trying to ask with a simple "good" or "fine." But she didn't. She pushed the filter into the coffee maker and started it, and then turned, sighing, to meet his eyes. "It's the day after tomorrow, Castle."

He nodded, all too aware of that fact. "I know." He watched the coffee pot brew for a moment, finding it more fascinating than he ever had before. "Think you're ready?" he finally asked.

She shrugged. "I don't think I'll ever be ready. But it doesn't matter, does it?"

She did have a point. No matter what happened, how prepared or unprepared she was, the hearing was on Monday. By Monday night, her fate would be decided. Maybe altered. Maybe not. In some ways, there was nothing they could do. Part of him wished he could stop the clock for her, just stay here forever with nothing ever changing, nothing ever happening. But he knew that, ultimately, that wouldn't help her. The problem was that he wasn't sure what would.

"Of course it matters," he said. "It just doesn't... change anything. Sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

"I know it's not, I just... I wish there was more I could do." Maybe, he realized, that was why he'd been so determined to relive the whole experience with her. Not because it would necessarily help, but because at least it would feel like he was doing _something_.

"You've done plenty."

He couldn't believe that, but he nodded anyway.

"Tomorrow... it'll be weird to be back in the city. You're looking forward to seeing Alexis, I'm sure."

He automatically smiled at the mention of his daughter and nodded. "Yeah, of course. It's always a little strange going this long without seeing her. But I guess it's something I'll need to get used to when she starts college."

She nodded. "You will. In time. I'm sorry that I kept you from her for this long."

He smiled and echoed her earlier rebuff. "Don't be. This has been great, for the most part. I've enjoyed it. And I hope you have too."

"Yeah," she mumbled, watching as the last few drops of coffee dribbled into the pot.

He frowned. She was distracted, and he was sure it wasn't by the coffee, but he couldn't help feeling a little hurt by her lack of sincerity. "As long as you're sure..."

She tore her eyes away from the coffee pot and forced a smile. She was getting good. He almost believed it. Almost. "I really have. These two weeks have been great. I'm unbelievably touched that you would take so much time away from your life for me."

If nothing else, he was sure that the last part was genuine. "No sweat. So... what now?"

"Now... I don't know."

"It's our last night here, I feel like we should do something to commemorate it."

"Like what?"

"Like... I don't know." He truly didn't have anything in mind, which was unusual for him. Maybe it was the specter of the hearing hovering over his head, throwing him off his game. Whatever it was, he was out of ideas.

"The weather's nice, you wanna do another campfire?"

He smiled, wondering why they hadn't repeated that since the first night they'd had one. "Absolutely. We'll make it a bonfire. S'mores, hot dogs, mountain pies, the whole deal."

Her smile now was a lot less forced. It might even have been real. "Sounds like fun."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Kind of a filler chapter, I know, but it needed to happen. And finally the end is actually in sight. :) Well, my sight. I WILL finish this story eventually. It's going to happen. Trust me. It will. And hopefully sometime in this calendar year. :P I'm kidding. Sort of.

Reviews are always very much appreciated. :)


	19. Endings

**A/N: **Hey, look! It hasn't been a ridiculously long time, and I'm updating again! It hasn't even been a week! I'll need to be careful, though... you might actually start expecting me to update things in a timely manner. In all seriousness, though, my muse seems to have come back from her vacation, and I am trying to write more. So hopefully it will continue to work. Also, I swear I wrote the bit about the s'morelette before Castle mentioned it in "Significant Others." Not that it really matters, just... for the official record. The episode wasn't what made me think of it. Enjoy the chapter. :)

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><p>"Ow, ow!" He flipped the small, and rather hot, metal clip that held the pie iron together, and opened it to reveal a very black sandwich emitting a different kind of smoke than what was coming from the fire. He scowled at it. "Great."<p>

Kate rolled her eyes. "Let me see."

"It's a burnt mountain pie, what is there to see?" He dumped it into the trash can.

"Let me do the next one."

"No. I said I was going to make them, and I'm going to make them."

"But you've burnt the last three, and I'm hungry. Just let me try one."

He sighed and relinquished the iron. "Fine."

She started going through the motions of preparing yet another sandwich - butter, bread, sauce, cheese, pepperoni. "I can't believe you only have one of these things," she commented as she did it. "I mean, you're not usually big on moderation."

He shrugged, still irritated by the fate of his last three sandwiches. "We used to have two, but I could only find one."

She buried the iron in the coals and nodded toward the table where the food was laid out. "Don't just stand there sulking, make a hot dog or something."

"You telling me what to do?"

"Only if you're listening."

He skewered a hot dog with a marshmallow stick and returned to the fire.

"Was that so hard?" she teased.

He had the urge to jab her with the hot dog stick, but didn't particularly want to ruin another piece of food. "And you say I'm the annoying one in this relationship."

She raised an eyebrow. "Relationship?"

"Uh, yeah. Friendship. Whatever."

She looked down at the pie iron, and he wasn't sure if she was blushing or it was just the glow of the fire. But she was smiling.

He continued to cook his hot dog in silence for a little while, watching the edges brown and begin to blacken as the fire crackled and sparked. Just as he was coming to the conclusion that if he cooked it any more it would be as burnt as the last three pies he'd discarded, Kate took the pie iron out of the fire. "You think that's done?" he asked.

She smirked. "I think it is, and I think you've lost the right to judge that."

He readied a hot dog bun while she fiddled with the clip, trying to open the iron. When she did get it open, the sandwich inside was perfectly golden brown, and smelled a whole lot more appetizing than campfire smoke. "Beginner's luck," he muttered.

"Beginner's _skill_," she corrected. "Want me to make you one?"

"No," he said, feeling obstinate. "I'll make my own." What he'd wanted was to make one for her, but now that she'd already done that, there wasn't much point.

"That looks good," she said, looking at his plate. "Wanna make me one?"

He had a feeling she was patronizing him, but didn't question it. "Sure. As soon as I'm done with this."

"You make me a hot dog, I'll make you one of these pizza things, and we'll switch, okay?"

He sighed, giving in. That didn't sound like such a bad arrangement. "Fine. But my mountain pies are legendary, just ask Alexis."

She laughed. "I never said I didn't believe you. I'm just having better luck with it tonight. I don't think your pie iron means anything personal."

"But we've been through a lot together, me and that pie iron. It's just meeting you for the first time."

"Well, apparently I make a good first impression."

He shrugged. "I can't argue with that." On a whim, he spread some pizza sauce on his hot dog bun and sprinkled some cheese on top.

She raised an eyebrow. "That's disgusting."

"No more disgusting than the s'morelette, and look how successful that was."

"The _what_lette?"

His eyes widened as he realized that Kate hadn't yet experienced his breakfast nirvana. "Tomorrow morning," he promised. "You'll see."

She made a face as she finished assembling her second mountain pie. "Can't wait for that."

He thought he detected a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but decided to ignore it, and focused instead on his pizza-hot-dog. "Delicious," he decided. "Oh my god. Beckett, you have to try this." He immediately realized his mistake and looked at her. She hadn't stopped putting the sandwich together, but was frowning now, and he didn't think it was because she was imagining what a s'morelette might taste like. "Sorry," he began, but then realized that he wasn't. Not really. "But, look, day after tomorrow you're gonna be Beckett again. At least to the judge. And it'll always be your name, no matter what happens. So maybe you should get used to it."

She nodded, still concentrated on the sandwich. Apparently a lot of effort went into making sure the cheese was sprinkled in precisely the right place. "Yeah. I know."

He remembered the plan - relax, regroup, don't think about the hearing - and didn't embrace the change of subject. "So, your take on the pizza-hot-dog is...?"

She shot him a halfhearted, but not forced, smile as she closed the pie iron. "I think I'll just have a regular one, thanks."

"Boring. At least try a bite of mine."

He must've shoved the unbitten end toward her face a little harder than he'd intended, because she stepped back, lost her footing in the sand, and, somehow, managed to land in one of the folding camp chairs, laughing. "Get that thing away from me!"

"Just try it! You'll love it, I promise. If not, I'll toast all your marshmallows for you tonight. Perfect golden brown, the way you like them."

"Okay, okay, if you'll get that thing out of my face, I'll try it." She took the hot dog from him, still laughing, and took a bite.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for the verdict. "Well?"

She nodded. "Not bad."

"Didn't I tell you?"

"Weird, but not bad." She handed it back. "I'll still take a regular one, though."

"Fine, be boring."

He finished his pizza-dog and began preparing another, destined to be plain, as he'd promised Beckett. When he looked, he saw that she was still sitting in the chair she'd fallen into, holding the paper plate containing the mountain pie in her lap without eating it.

He set down his marshmallow fork and took the chair beside her. He didn't say anything at first, and she didn't look in his direction, although he knew that she realized he was there. Finally she raised her head, meeting his eyes, and he took that as his cue to speak. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about anything?"

She considered for a second, but then nodded, slowly. "Yeah. I'm sure." She looked at her half-eaten sandwich and smiled. "I still owe you one of these, don't I?"

He shook his head. "Look, if you don't want to-"

"No, I told you I would, didn't I? And I'm still expecting my hot dog. No crazy toppings, please."

He grinned. "'Crazy' is a matter of opinion, isn't it?"

"How about you cook it and I'll get my own toppings?"

"No, no. You said I could make it. You can't back out now."

She rolled her eyes, smiling a real smile. "Fine. Do your worst."

* * *

><p>The air was warm, but the sky was cloudy. He remembered the constellations that Kate had shown him and tried to pick out one or two, but there weren't enough stars visible. They were obviously still up there, but blanketed by a layer of haze, hidden from the world. There was no rain, no lightning, no visible upset, but nothing else was visible, either. It didn't matter how long or hard he looked, he wasn't going to find any constellations. He wasn't going to find anything.<p>

He couldn't see the water from here, but he could imagine what it would look like. The dark, rolling waves of the nighttime sea. The clouds forming their own little horizon, separating the water from the sky, making the sky seem higher, further out of reach, than it usually did. Like the sky was walling itself off from the ocean, establishing itself as a completely separate entity.

The fire was dying, but his eyelids were getting heavier, so he didn't add any more wood. Kate had been so quiet that he thought she might've fallen asleep, or into some sort of coma brought on by her excessive intake of campfire food, like the one he felt coming on. But when he looked in her direction he saw that she was sitting up, staring into the fire. "Tired?" he asked.

She jumped, startled by his voice, like she'd forgotten that he was there. "Oh, um, sort of, I guess."

"I think I'm gonna turn in. Want me to throw another log on for you?"

She shook her head. "I can do it."

"So you're staying up?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. Little while longer, anyway."

"But you will come in before too long?"

"What are you, my dad?"

He frowned and stood up to go inside. "No. Fine. Do what you like."

He couldn't see her face clearly in the low firelight, but her voice softened. "I'll be in soon."

He nodded. "Good." He stared at the remnants of smoldering logs for a long moment, and heard himself speak again almost before he realized that he'd meant to say anything. "I'm sorry there wasn't more I could do. These past few days, especially... I wish I could've helped."

"Castle, you have."

"I appreciate you saying that, but I know I haven't really done anything. All I've done is distract you."

"Exactly."

He frowned. "What?"

"You helped me to not think about the hearing for a few days, and that's exactly what I wanted. And what I still want, to be honest. I don't want to think about it yet. It's just that it's hard not to. I just... I really don't want to lose my job."

"The NYPD would be stupid to dismiss their best detective," he said. Maybe he couldn't assure her that everything would be okay, but this much he could say with confidence. He believed it.

"You're sweet."

"I'm not trying to be sweet. It's true." She didn't say anything this time, and he waited a bit before speaking again. "I can stay up a little longer if you want company."

"That's okay. Go to bed. I'd like to be alone for a little while."

"You sure?"

She nodded.

"Alright." He tapped the back of her chair as he walked past. "Night."

"Night."

* * *

><p>He'd gotten used to this morning ritual: prepare the coffee, then take his cup out onto the deck and meet Beckett. Some mornings she was already there, but others, like today, he was the first one outside. He'd heard her come in last night, maybe an hour after he had, but when he'd gotten up this morning she'd still been asleep.<p>

As had become his custom, he leaned against the railing and looked out at the horizon. Everything seemed calm today. The clouds had subsided, and the surface of the water reflected the sky's blue as the waves rolled gently toward the beach.

He heard the door open and watched her emerge with her coffee. It was strange to think that this was the last morning that would begin this way. The last morning of the trip, and maybe the last morning ever. Other than the present circumstances, what reason would he and Beckett ever have for being in the Hamptons together like this? Unless... He remembered the conversation they'd had at the beginning of the trip, about how maybe, after the hearing, there would be time to reevaluate their relationship. But who knew if that would actually happen, or how it would turn out? Everything seemed so up in the air right now. And until tomorrow, he guessed, it was. Nothing was for sure.

"Morning," she greeted him, forcing his thoughts back to the present.

"Morning. How'd you sleep?"

"Not bad." She sipped her coffee and joined him at the railing. "You?"

"Not bad, either."

They drank their coffee in silence for awhile, preparing for the day in more ways than one. Neither said anything about leaving, but the reality hung in the air. The time they had left here was down to hours now instead of days or weeks.

"Lets take a walk," she said. It wasn't a question, nor did it sound in any way optional. She started down the steps to the beach, half-full coffee cup in hand, and he for some reason felt compelled to follow her. So he did.

The morning sun was just beginning to warm the sand, and it felt good against his bare feet. Kate cut a slow diagonal course toward the water, like she was trying to walk down the beach, but some kind of magnetic force pulled her toward the surf. He fell into step beside her, following her path, wherever she should choose to lead.

When they got close enough to the waterline that the occasional wave licked their feet, she suddenly stopped, pointing at something in the water. "Look, Castle!"

He frowned and tried to see where she was pointing. "What am I looking at?"

"Just look! Right here."

In another second, he saw what she saw. Maybe fifty yards out from where they stood, a dolphin's fin appeared between the waves, arcing gracefully out of and back into the water. Then another one, two, three. At least four dolphins, just beyond the sandbar, where the water started to get deep.

They seemed to circle in the same area for a little while, jumping and surfacing individually and together for a few minutes before they disappeared altogether. The next fin sighted was farther down the beach, moving away from them. It almost seemed like the ocean's way of acknowledging that they were leaving; of waving goodbye.

Without a word, they started back toward the house, walking right along the waterline now. Something in the sand caught his eye, and he bent down to pick it up, just to see what it was. He let a wave rinse the sand off its surface, and held the almost completely round disc in the palm of his hand. It was the skeleton of a perfect sand dollar, bleached white by the sun.

He handed it to Kate. "Here. Something to remember the trip by."

She smiled. "There's no way I'm going to forget it."

"Well, then never turn down a free souvenir."

She took it, and traced the star-shaped imprints with her finger. "I love it."

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><p><strong>AN: **I feel the need to once again remind you how much I love reviews. Leave some, please? Thanks for reading!


	20. Home

**A/N: **Quick context reminder, since I've been somewhat unreliable about updating this and you might've forgotten. This is set at the very end of Season 3, so Alexis would still be with Ashley. (Also, Montgomery is still alive and captain, although that's not mentioned in this particular chapter.) I'm not just massively confused. Although that happens sometimes too.

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><p>"You sure you don't want me to come in?"<p>

"Castle, I'll be fine. Go home, see Alexis. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. But call me if you need anything. Or just come over, you know you're welcome any time."

"I appreciate that, but I can take care of myself for a few hours."

He did the math in his head. Eighteen hours until the hearing. Eighteen was more than "a few." But he didn't argue the point, because he had a feeling that she was right. She'd be okay for a little while. And if she wasn't, she knew where to find him. "I guess you can. I'll see you tomorrow."

It was a little strange watching her walk into her building, suitcase in hand. It felt a little like a goodbye. Which was silly, because it wasn't as if he'd never see her again. He surely would, in just eighteen hours. It wasn't even a long time. But their time in the Hamptons had been unlike anything he'd experienced with her before. Maybe it hadn't directly changed their relationship, but when they were there, just the two of them, it had felt different. There had been times when it had felt like the rest of the world didn't even exist. And even if it did exist, it didn't matter. They'd been contained in a bubble with everything they needed: their own food, their own air, their own solar system. But now the bubble had to burst, and they had to reenter the world, and it felt a little too harsh. A little too fast.

He wasn't sure what he wanted, exactly. To spend one more night with his detective before the hearing? Part of him wanted that, yes. That same part wanted to park his car and follow her into her building, despite her protests. To try to keep the bubble intact, at least until tomorrow morning. But another part of him knew that, for the hearing to go as smoothly as possible, he needed to let her be by herself for a little while, to re-acclimate to the concept of being Detective Kate Beckett, the fully independent, strong, badass cop that he knew she still was, and he knew she'd always be, no matter what changed. And then there was a third part of him that just wanted to go home and see his daughter. That was the part he decided to indulge.

But the first face he saw upon returning home was not Alexis's, but his mother's. Still, if pressed, he would've had to admit that it was a welcome sight after two weeks away. "Darling," she greeted him, "wonderful to have you home. How's Kate?"

"She's better, I think. She's at home now, getting ready for tomorrow. Where's Alexis?"

"Upstairs. But-"

That was all the information he needed. He abandoned his bags by the door and started for his daughter's bedroom without another word.

He guessed that when he got there he expected to find Alexis at her desk doing homework, her usual position on late Sunday afternoons. He certainly hadn't expected to find her sitting on her bed, her face completely obscured by the back of Ashley's head, so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn't even notice he was there.

The door was open, but he knocked on the frame to get her attention. It did. She pulled away from her boyfriend, and her eyes widened. "Dad! Hey, you're home!"

"Yes. I am." She hadn't exactly been doing anything wrong, but he heard the stern parental tone in his voice. He couldn't help it. In his mind, she was still seven. He didn't think he'd ever be comfortable watching his little girl make out with a boy, no matter how much he liked the boy. But he could at least try to be nice. "Good to see you, Ash."

"You too, Mr. Castle," he said, carefully avoiding eye contact. "I've, uh, gotta go... see you tomorrow, Alexis."

"Bye." She smiled apologetically at her boyfriend, and he quickly picked up his things and slipped out the door, past Castle.

He cleared his throat. "I, um, didn't mean to interrupt."

"Uh, that's okay. I just... didn't know you were home."

"I am."

"I know that now. How's Detective Beckett?"

"She's okay. She's at home. Her hearing's tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know, you told me that. You think it's gonna go okay?"

"I don't know. That's up to the judge, I guess. I hope so." If he'd been hoping for a distraction, he'd certainly found one now. With everything going on, he'd never once considered the fact that he'd left Alexis alone for two weeks, with only her grandmother's supervision. But he was considering it now. "So... what's been going on here? Anything exciting?"

"Not... really. Just... studying. You know."

"Uh... what exactly were you studying just now?"

"Dad." Her eyes pleaded with him to leave it alone. "I'm seventeen."

"Alright, fine, yes. Just... tell me there's nothing I need to worry about."

"There's nothing you need to worry about."

"Would you tell me if there was?"

"What do you think?"

He grumbled. "Just... talk to me before you do anything. I mean, anything more than what you were just doing. Okay?"

She raised an eyebrow. "And based on this conversation, I'm sure that one would go _really_ well."

"Hey. Promise me."

"Fine, I promise."

"Good. What's on tab for the rest of today? Homework?"

"Some. I already finished most of it. Why?"

"Laser tag?"

She grinned. "Absolutely."

* * *

><p>Exhausted as he was by the three games of laser tag he'd played with Alexis after dinner, he couldn't seem to fall asleep. The hearing was less than ten hours away now, and his mind wouldn't stop running, thinking of different ways that it might go. Things that IA might bring up, things that wouldn't necessarily work in Beckett's favor. Things that, if given the chance, he wanted to make sure he <em>did<em> say, to make sure the judge saw all that he knew Kate Beckett was. To make sure the judge understood what a disservice it would be to the city of New York if she was no longer protecting it.

He found himself wondering if Kate was experiencing the same thing. He half-expected to be able to roll over and see her there in the next bed. But he was at home now, and there was no next bed. Just his. And now that he was home, even though he didn't live alone, he found that there was something lonely about it. The truth was that he missed her. He hadn't been away from her much more than eight hours, but he did. Once you got used to seeing someone every day at a certain time - or, in this case, almost all the time - it just didn't feel right when that was interrupted.

He figured that if he was having trouble sleeping, she probably was too, and thought about giving her a call, but on the off chance that she was asleep, he didn't want to wake her. He'd told her earlier to call if she needed anything, and he wanted to take it as a good sign that she hadn't, but thought it was probably more likely that she hadn't called because she hadn't wanted to interrupt his time with his family. And to be honest, he was grateful for that. He'd missed Alexis, and even his mother, in the two weeks that he'd been away, and it had been good to catch up. But now, without the distraction of his family, he realized just how strange it felt to be away from her. And even if it was just for a minute, he wanted to talk to her. Instead of calling, he sent a text message, figuring that it would be less likely to wake her up, and even if it did, she could just go back to sleep without answering. "Call me if you're up," it read.

He set his phone down and tried, once again, to fall asleep, but it was less than a minute before it rang. He knew it would be her (who else would be calling this late?), but still smiled when he saw her picture on the display. "Hey," he answered.

"Castle." Her voice sounded tired, but not unhappy. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, really, I just couldn't sleep. Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"No, it's okay, I couldn't sleep either."

Now that he had her on the phone, he didn't have any idea what he wanted to say. Really, he'd just wanted to hear her voice, but he couldn't tell her that. Could he? _No,_ he told himself. Now was not the time. But what _was_ it the time for? "So... what's new?" he tried. As soon as it was out of his mouth, he realized it hadn't been right.

She chuckled. "Not a whole lot since you dropped me off this afternoon."

"Yeah... I guess not." _I missed you,_ he coached himself. Just three words. Three _short_ words. How hard could it possibly be to say? Very, apparently. Simple as the sentence was, he couldn't seem to get it from his brain to his vocal cords. It just wouldn't go.

"How's Alexis?"

_Alexis, yes._ That was a much safer subject. "She's good. Really good, apparently. I think she enjoyed my time away."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He felt the rant coming, but didn't bother to stop it. "I mean, of course she didn't want to come to the Hamptons for the weekend. She had two whole weeks with only my _mother_ for supervision. And she has a boyfriend, I mean, what more could any teenager ask for?"

"Alexis isn't any teenager. Did something happen?"

"Yeah, something happened. I left her alone for two weeks. I came home and she and Ashley were in her bedroom alone making out."

"'Making out' like... kissing?"

He scowled. "Why are you making me sound paranoid?"

"Because you _are_ paranoid. Alexis is a great kid, Castle, you just have to learn to trust her."

He sighed. "I trust her."

"Then you need to stop freaking out every time she does something that makes you a little uncomfortable."

"It's just that... she's seventeen. She's been with Ash for awhile now. Don't you think they're thinking about...?"

"Sex?"

He growled.

She laughed. "Yeah, probably."

"You're not helping."

"Helping _what_? She's seventeen, Castle. What are you gonna do, lock her in a tower?"

"Why, do you know of one?"

"Castle."

"I'm kidding. Kind of. I just worry sometimes that she can't talk to me about certain things. You know, because I'm a man, and because I'm her dad and I _would_ rather just lock her in a tower and not have to deal with any of it. And her mother's about the last person I'd want her to get advice from."

"But she has her grandmother, doesn't she?"

"Not much better. Plus, it's been awhile since my mother was a teenager."

"Can't argue with that. Well, you know... if there's something she doesn't feel comfortable talking to you about, you can always have her call me."

He frowned. "Really?"

"Sure. I was seventeen once. And it wasn't _that_ long ago. I mean, I can't guarantee that she'd feel any better about talking to me than you, but I don't have any desire to lock her in a tower, for whatever that's worth."

"To her, probably a lot. You sure you wouldn't mind?"

"No, not at all. It's the least I can do."

"You know you don't owe me anything."

"No, that's not what I meant. I'm happy to help."

"Okay. I'll tell her."

"Was that why you couldn't sleep?"

He smiled to himself. It had been bothering him more than he'd realized, but no. That wasn't the reason. And she knew that. "What do you think?"

"I think it could've been. I know how much it bothers you when you're having problems with her. Even if they're perceived problems."

"But you also know that I have a few... more immediate concerns."

"Yeah," she sighed. "Me too."

"But we should be well-rested so that we can think clearly tomorrow."

He could almost hear her eyes roll. "Not _we,_ Castle. Me. _I_ need to think clearly tomorrow. You might not even have to say anything."

He sighed, hoping she was wrong. "Maybe, but if there's an opportunity for me to say something, I intend to take it. I want to help if I can."

"You've already helped."

"Well, then I want to help more."

"I appreciate that, but I need you to be careful. Sometimes with things like this, the less that gets said, the better."

He realized what she meant. That, maybe, the judge would be ready to clear her, and he'd say something to change that outcome. And she was right, he couldn't let that happen. "I will. I'll be careful."

"Good." She sighed. "Maybe it'll go smoothly. Maybe we won't even have to worry about it."

"And even if it doesn't... there's no point in worrying about it now. It won't help." That was her point originally, and now that there were only hours until the hearing, he felt like it was a good time to remind her of it.

"Yeah, you're right." He heard her shift around a little, and wondered if she was lying down. It didn't sound like a bad idea, so he did the same, even trying to wedge his phone against pillows so that he didn't have to hold it.

"I am right." He was starting to hear the tiredness leaking into his own voice. "I guess we should hang up and try to get some sleep."

"Do you think it'll work? I mean, it didn't before, not for either of us."

"So... we don't hang up?"

"I can't really see the benefit."

"But I'm out of things to talk about."

"That's okay."

"But we're on the phone. If we don't have anything to talk about, we won't-"

"Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"Shh."

He sighed, but stopped arguing. He let his eyes close, as they'd been wanting to for awhile now, even though his brain was still nowhere near ready to fall asleep. But there was something soothing about the sound of her breathing on the other end of the phone. It was one less thing to worry about. Whatever was going to happen tomorrow, he at least knew that, for the moment, everything was okay. Everyone was safe. And that knowledge was enough to slow his racing thoughts, if only a little.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So, um... this chapter kind of went off in a direction that I didn't expect, what with all the Alexis stuff that kind of came out of left field, but I kind of like the way it turned out. So hopefully you do too. And it's looking like the next chapter will actually have to be getting into the hearing, so... that should be interesting. For you and me both. Stay tuned. I'll try not to take too long to write it.

Free cookies to all who review! I suppose they'll have to be virtual cookies, but let the record show that I WOULD give you real cookies if I could. Like, you could push a button and they'd come out of your CD drive or something. That would be awesome. Someone should really get working on that. But... um... what was I talking about? Right. Review for free virtual cookies. And the knowledge that you've made Christine happy. That's a perk, right? Okay, maybe it's just a perk for me. Regardless, thanks for reading. :)


	21. Friends

Maybe it was just his nerves interfering with his creative juices, but it seemed to him that every person in this coffee shop was painstakingly boring. New Yorkers tended to pride themselves on being unique, but looking around this place, you'd never know it. It was a sea of black three-piece suits, monochromatic ties, and identical tidy hairstyles. The workers broke up the monotony a little, with their beige t-shirts and green aprons, but two-tone wasn't a whole lot better than one. This was why he didn't write in coffee shops. He frequented them, obviously, but only to pick up coffee. For writing, he preferred places with a little more ambiance, or at least places that weren't so distractingly blah. It was like every single person in here made it their life's mission _not_ to have an interesting story. To do exactly and only what they were supposed to, according to society and the various other boring forces in their lives. The whole vibe of this place was just so uninspiring.

He was early and needed something to distract him while he waited, so he cast around, searching in vain for _someone,_ - anyone, really - who he could invent some sort of story about to amuse him for a few minutes. Anyone who stood out, just a little, from the surrounding masses. Finally, he found her. In her black pea coat and pinstriped pants, her brown hair wound into a tight, professional knot, she did blend in at first, but there was something about her that was different. Less corporate. Like many other people in here, she seemed to be looking for someone, but there was something about her posture that set her apart. She was too rigid. Uncomfortable. She didn't really belong here, and she was well-aware of that fact.

He let his imagination take over, filling in the details that his eyes wouldn't provide. She'd been a very successful Broadway dancer, but her show had closed, and she was temporarily unemployed. Her boyfriend recently broke up with her to take a job on the west coast, and after too many weeks of celibacy, a friend had set her up on a blind date with a successful but boring lawyer. Castle joined her in trying to identify the man she was meeting. He had to be around here somewhere.

Before he found the guy, the woman who'd so entranced him turned around, and he finally got a clear view of her face. He smiled as he realized that he _did_ know the man she was meeting, and waved a hand to get her attention. No wonder she'd entranced him. She'd been entrancing him for the past three years.

"Good morning, Detective Beckett," he greeted her, purposely using her professional title in order, he hoped, to get her into the correct state of mind for the impending hearing.

She smiled nervously and sat down at the high-top table across from him. "Morning, Castle."

He slid a coffee - skim latte with two pumps of sugar-free vanilla, her old usual - and a pastry across the table to her. She picked up the coffee gratefully before he'd even taken his hand away, so that their fingers brushed for a second. Her bottom lip got trapped between her teeth for a second as her nervous smile faded a little, but then she met his eyes and said a quick, "thanks."

"So what do you think?" he asked. "You ready?"

She set the coffee cup down and picked at the edges of the pastry. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Good... good." He sipped his own coffee.

When he'd made the plan to meet her here last night, it had seemed so important that he see her before they got to the courthouse, to have coffee, just as they had in the Hamptons. If nothing else, they'd both gotten a lot more comfortable around each other while they were there. But now... all that seemed to have gone away. The seriousness of the impending hearing hung in the air, and there was nothing to say. Nothing to do but drink coffee and hope that everything went smoothly. Meeting early like this just felt like prolonging the experience. He briefly considered filling her in on her lost career as a Broadway dancer, but now didn't seem like the time. So they sat in silence for what felt to him like hours.

"Castle?"

He hadn't realized he'd been avoiding looking at her until she said his name. At that point he looked up quickly, startled. "Yeah?"

"I really appreciate how much you've supported me these past couple of weeks."

He was thrown off by the formality of her tone. "Yeah, I know, you've said that already. And it's really not necessary, that's what I'm here for."

She ignored him and continued on with her speech. "And no matter what happens today, I need you to know that you'll always be my partner."

He frowned. "Of course I will. Kate, I don't know where this is coming from, but I'm not going anywhere."

"Yeah you are. You're going home."

"What?"

"Go home."

"No. I'm a witness, I'm coming to the hearing."

"You're not required to be there."

"I don't care if I'm 'required' to be there. I'm going to be."

"No, you're not." Her expression was beginning to look pained, and he wasn't happy about that, but he wasn't about to give up, either. "I need to focus in there, and as much as I'd love it if you were there, it would be distracting."

"Why haven't you mentioned this before?" Her whole speech was well thought-out. He was sure she hadn't just decided this now.

"Because I knew you'd fight me on it."

"Well, you were right. No amount of persuasion is gonna keep me away. I don't know how many times I've told you, I want to help."

"So go home. Please."

"No. I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

"What if I promise to call you as soon as the hearing ends?"

"You won't have to, because I'll be there. I won't say anything to mess you up, I promise."

"No, I know that..." She sighed. "You really want to come?"

He met her eyes. "I really do." For two whole weeks, they'd been planning to go through this together. Why would that suddenly have changed?

"Okay." She finished her coffee and put the cup down on the table. "Then let's go."

* * *

><p>Castle was having trouble reconciling the woman beside him as he entered the courthouse with the woman he'd spent so much time with in the Hamptons. He guessed that the way she was now - professional, distant - was closer to the Beckett he'd known for three years than the woman who'd opened up to him so much in the Hamptons, but still, it was weird. From the time they walked through the courthouse doors, she never so much as looked at him.<p>

It was a big building and it took a few minutes to figure out where they were supposed to be going, but he knew they were in the right neighborhood when they were met by two very concerned detectives. Until now, he hadn't considered the fact that Beckett's teammates hadn't seen her since before the incident. He assumed that Lanie had talked to Esposito, who'd talked to Ryan, so they hadn't been fully in the dark about what had been happening, but this was the first time either of them had gotten to talk to her directly.

"Hey, chica," Espo greeted her with an encouraging, puppy-eyed smile. "You'll be great in there, okay? It'll go fine."

Castle sensed her nervousness, and he was pretty sure the other two did as well, but she smiled, a genuine smile, in spite of it. "Thanks, Javi."

"New York isn't gonna lose its finest detective today," Ryan put in. "There's no way."

She made a noise that sounded like it could've been trying to be a laugh, but didn't quite get there. "Thanks."

"We shoulda been backing you," the younger detective added. "This is partly our fault."

"No, no one's fault," she said, glancing quickly but pointedly at Castle. "We're a good team, the four of us. Just let them try to break us up." She swallowed hard, forcing a smile, and once again he got the feeling that he was missing something.

But before anyone could say anything else, Montgomery cut it short, directing them toward the courtroom. Castle tried to follow, but the captain stopped him. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

There was an unexplainable uneasiness in the pit of his stomach, but he nodded. "Oh yeah, sure. What's up?"

"You should go home," he said sternly. "This is no place for you to be."

He frowned. Now Montgomery didn't want him here, either? "What are you talking about?"

"I thought I was clear. Go home."

"I can't do that."

The captain seemed to struggle with something for a minute, and then relented. "Fine. If you're determined to stay, I won't force you to leave. But I think it would be better for you and for Beckett if you did."

He sighed. Why did no one trust him? "I've already had this conversation with Beckett. I'm not going to say anything that I shouldn't."

"I didn't say you would. Look, I understand that you want to support her. But sometimes the best way to support someone is just to let them do their thing. I'm here, Detectives Esposito and Ryan are here. Even if you leave, she won't be alone in there."

If he was going to leave (which he wasn't), he'd sure as hell need a better reason than he'd been given so far. Roy was his friend. He'd been his friend since before he'd ever met Kate Beckett. So why was he trying to push him away? "Listen, Roy," he said, his voice so low it was near a whisper, "I've been with her for the last two weeks. I've seen her relive everything that happened that night over and over again. I've watched her worry about this hearing, the one that's happening today. Now. And I was there with her when everything happened. I'm the one who called you, remember? I'm the reason she's here today, I'm the reason her badge is in danger. Is there anyone else in this building, or anywhere else, who can say that? I've been through this whole process with her, and this is the final step. You know me, Captain. Do you really think I'm going to walk away now?"

Montgomery stared at him for a long moment, and sighed heavily. "No, I don't."

"Good. Just as long as we're clear." He started toward the courtroom, but he'd barely taken a step before Roy called him back again.

"Castle?

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for taking care of her these past couple of weeks."

"I didn't-"

But the captain didn't pause. "I'm sure it wasn't easy for her, for either of you... but I'm sure that it coulda been a lot worse than it was. You've been a fine partner for her. A welcome addition to our team."

Montgomery's words were touching, but his tone made him nervous. It was the same one that Beckett had been using in the coffee shop. There was something final about it, and he didn't like that. But he swallowed his uneasiness and nodded. "Thanks, Captain. Always happy to help."

The older man patted his back in a vaguely parental way and ushered him toward the interrogation room. But before he got there, an African American woman in a conservative suit (she would've fit in nicely at that coffee shop) and plain black heels clicked past them. She eyed Montgomery and nodded cordially. "Roy." Her tone conveyed familiarity, but definitely not friendship.

"Victoria," he greeted her, his tone a little cold as well. "Good to see you again."

Her eyes narrowed, and Castle got the impression that she didn't necessarily share the sentiment, but she entered the courtroom without another word, the doors closing behind her.

"Who was that?" he asked a still-frowning Montgomery.

"Victoria Gates, Internal Affairs. Your worst nightmare."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I really like cliffhangers. They make me feel powerful. *evil laugh*

On a completely unrelated note... I miss Montgomery. A lot. Hopefully I did him justice in this chapter.

Reviews are always appreciated!


	22. Choices

**A/N: **This took a little longer than I wanted it to, but hey, it was still less than a month, so I'd still say I'm doing better with the updating. :) Um... it's kind of a different kind of chapter for me, so I hope it works okay. I think it does. I hope you agree. Regardless, enjoy. :)

* * *

><p><em>My worst nightmare, huh?<em> He couldn't help but wonder... why? Roy had practically pushed him into the courtroom before he'd been able to ask. She didn't really _look_ scary. Just... boring. And unfriendly. She had the air of someone who was having a bad day and wasn't in the mood to deal with crap from anyone. If he was married to her, it would've been terrifying. As it was... not so much.

The courtroom itself had a similar feel: unfriendly, but not exactly threatening. Beckett sat in the front row surrounded by her team - or... most of her team. Esposito and Ryan were on one side, the captain on the other. He'd wanted to be there with her as well, in fact felt like he _should_ be there, sitting in Esposito's seat, but Roy had been quite firm in directing him to sit where he was, about three rows back. He felt completely useless here. He couldn't grant her even as much as a reassuring smile because all he could see was the back of her head. But she knew that he was here (he hoped... unless she thought Montgomery had succeeded in convincing him to go home... but she had to know him better than that by now, didn't she?) and that he was supporting her, and that would have to be enough. It didn't feel like enough, but it would have to be.

Victoria Gates was standing in front of the courtroom and off to one side, apparently trying to blend in as she surveyed the room. She was looking for something, although he couldn't begin to say what. Until she found it. Found him. She looked at him carefully, glanced down at a folder she was carrying, and then nodded, as if confirming some suspicion she'd had. He was beginning to see what Montgomery might've meant. Her eyes were cold, her stare hard, and there was something unsettling about it... like she was sizing him up.

It ended as abruptly as it had begun. The next thing he knew, she was heading back to her seat, her expression back to professional indifference, as if she hadn't noticed him, or anyone else, at all.

He took a deep breath, hoping to calm the butterflies in his stomach. _It will be fine,_ he told himself. _Beckett's the best this city has. They can't take her badge away. Montgomery's here, he won't let anything bad happen. Everything will be fine._ Even in his head, he wasn't buying it. Montgomery clearly didn't have the power in this situation. He could vouch for the character of his detective, but the ultimate decision was not his. And the more he thought about it, the less confident he felt. The way everyone had been acting when they'd come in... even Beckett, and especially Montgomery... it was like they already knew something, and it couldn't have been anything good. And this woman from Internal Affairs made him nervous for no reason he could place.

The judge got the attention of the room by clearing his throat. There was no gavel. In another situation he might've been disappointed, but in this one it seemed a little less threatening. "This is a disciplinary hearing for Detective Katherine Beckett, regarding her actions on the night of May 13, 2011. Will the Department please present their case?"

In the front of the room a few seats down from Beckett's team was another group of people. An older, gray-haired man in a suit, Victoria Gates, and two uniformed police officers. He couldn't see them perfectly from back here, but he was pretty sure that at least the man closest to him was one of the officers who had been sent to back them up that night... arguably either saving their lives or ruining Beckett's.

He still wasn't sure exactly what had happened that night. He knew most of what had happened in the alley outside of the building... but after that, from the time that the officers had showed up to the time that Montgomery had asked, very apologetically, for Beckett's badge and gun... he really wasn't sure what had gone down. He knew that Beckett didn't blame Montgomery, that she'd said it was somehow out of his hands... but he didn't know what that meant, either. Whose hands was it in? The judge's, now. But how had it come to this? How had Internal Affairs even become involved? They were famous for sticking their noses places that the other divisions tended to agree they didn't belong, but it had to start from somewhere. There was usually an investigation... but why would they have been investigating Beckett?

The gray-haired man approached the bench. Officially, this was simply a hearing, not a trial, and there was no jury. "I give the floor to Sergeant Victoria Gates of Internal affairs," he announced, with a tone of almost arrogant confidence. The judge hadn't introduced this man, and he hadn't introduced himself either. He guessed that the hearing was meant primarily for the judge, not for the audience... but the more happened, the more out of the loop he felt. How was he supposed to help if he didn't even know what was going on?

The man sat down, and now it was Gates's turn to approach the bench. She as well made no attempt at an introduction, and delved directly into her speech. If this had been a movie, it would've needed some serious editing. "I was asked to open an investigation on Detective Beckett in January of 2010," she began, "following an incident where a suspect was shot in the Twelfth Precinct."

Castle frowned. January 2010... Dick Coonan? He seethed. Why would that have led to an investigation? It had been purely self-defense. Well... his defense, actually. He wanted to protest, but had been warned by Montgomery not to say anything during the proceedings, so with difficulty he held his tongue. He wished that he could see Beckett's face, or even Montgomery's. Her bun and the back of his bald head gave him very little information. Had either one of them known about this? Was she going to defend herself, or was Montgomery going to defend her? Someone had to say _something,_ because there was nothing even remotely fair about this.

But no one did. Gates continued on, uninterrupted. "During the course of that time, I have come across some troubling information concerning the detective's performance in the company of consultant Richard Castle."

The bottom dropped out of his stomach. His brain seemed to forget how to formulate words. His entire consciousness was nothing but a blank space. Gates looked at him, meeting his eyes for a fraction of a second before looking away again. The longer he studied this woman, the creepier she seemed to become. He'd obviously never met her before, but it was as if she had some personal vendetta against him. As he regained the ability to put coherent thoughts together, his confusion turned to outrage. How did he have anything to do with Beckett's performance? He wasn't even a cop.

"The author's own record is littered with minor infractions," Gates continued, "and in the past year and a half it has become exceedingly clear that his own disrespect for authority has rubbed off on the detective with whom he has been working closely for the last two and a half years. Beckett has transformed from a determined but conscientious detective into a rule-breaker whose impulsive decisions often endanger those around her. Dick Coonan was killed as a measure to ensure Mr. Castle's safety. And more recently, when investigating a case against orders, Ms. Beckett along with Mr. Castle nearly froze to death inside of an industrial freezer."

At this point he was basically holding himself down. _Are you forgetting to mention that if we hadn't done that, this city would have BLOWN UP?_

Taking a chance, probably realizing how much even the very beginning of Gates's speech had to be enraging him, Esposito turned around in his seat and shook his head, wordlessly conveying a firm message: _don't say anything._ But why wasn't anyone else saying anything either? It must have been a court thing... each side had the chance to express their side of the story without interruption. But what happened to objections? Because Gates's speech left plenty to object to. His own record had _nothing_ to do with Beckett. She shouldn't even have brought it up, and the judge certainly couldn't take it into consideration. Could he?

The judge actually did intervene, confirming his suspicion. "Let's limit our discussion to the evening in question, Sergeant."

She continued as though she hadn't been interrupted. "On the evening of May thirteenth, Detective Beckett, with Mr. Castle's _assistance,_" the word dripped sarcasm, which slightly contradicted her professional manner, "attempted to aprehend a very dangerous suspect without orders and without any backup."

_I was her backup,_ he wanted to growl. _I'm her partner._

"This lapse in judgment led to a standoff that put both the detective and Mr. Castle, as well as the officers who came to their assistance, in serious danger. If the detective had adhered to protocol, that could have been avoided."

_Protocol?! If we had "adhered to protocol, we might not have caught him. Which we did, although you seem to be conveniently ignoring that part._

"However. I have been following Detective Beckett's career, and it has become clear to me that she is a very impressive young woman. In fact, she has the honor of having been the youngest woman in the NYPD to achieve the rank of detective. I have also been following the case in question, and it is quite evident that putting James Carson in police custody was a true service to the city." She turned to the judge, addressing him directly. "While I realize that it is not my decision to make, I believe that it would be a shame to deprive Ms. Beckett of her career, and to deprive this city of her services. However, it is clear to me that the interference of Mr. Castle has affected her judgment and decreased the quality of her police work, and the return of her badge should be contingent upon her agreement to cease working with Mr. Castle."

Something inside of him disconnected. _"Cease working with Mr. Castle."_ She could have her badge back and everything would be fine... if he left.

Gates wasn't done speaking, and he continued to listen to her from somewhere far away. "Her captain should assign her a partner with the proper respect for rules and authority, and," something about her expression changed, became harder, "with whom she is not currently romantically involved."

That brought him back. _What?!_

Ryan turned around in his seat and raised his eyebrows at him, and he shook his head vehemently, mouthing "no." He didn't know where Gates had gotten this information, but it was wrong.

Even the judge looked surprised. "I'm afraid you've lost me there, Sergeant."

"It has come to my attention that Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle are currently involved in a relationship. And although the NYPD does not technically employ Mr. Castle, the philosophy behind our inter-office dating policy holds with the type of work they do together."

"I understand that, Sergeant, what I don't understand is what leads you to believe that such a relationship exists."

"My sources tell me that Ms. Beckett and Mr. Castle spent the past two weeks together at his house in the Hamptons."

Captain Montgomery stood up suddenly, finally apparently feeling the need to interject. "Judge Whitmore, last I checked the private lives of our detectives when they're off duty are none of Internal Affairs' business."

"They are when they interfere with police business," Gates refuted.

"And how _exactly_ does spending two weeks' leave in the Hamptons 'interfere with police business'?" Roy Montgomery was one of the nicest, most down-to-earth people that Castle had ever met, but when he got angry it was downright scary. And right now, it looked as though smoke was about to start pouring out of his ears.

Gates was ready with a retort, but the judge cut her off. "Okay, I think we need a recess. Twenty minutes, folks."

Castle took that as his cue to disappear. He'd meant it when he'd said that he would do whatever it took to make sure Beckett kept her job. And if that meant leaving, then that was what he would do. He ducked out of the courtroom, actually grateful now that he'd been sitting away from Beckett. Really being able to see her and be near her would've made it that much harder to walk away. Even as it was, it was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. But he'd promised himself, and promised her, that he would help, and his being here... being in the picture at all... was clearly only going to be a hindrance. He would not hold her back. He would leave.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hm, two cliffhangers in a row... maybe I like that feeling of power a little too much. Mwahaha... anyway. Thanks for reading. Reviews are always nice. And I'll try not to be too long with the next chapter. :)


	23. Terms

Over the last two weeks, he must have imagined hundreds of different scenarios that could've happened today. They ranged from mean-spirited judges, to police officers who'd been paid off to lie, to the courtroom being invaded by aliens who altered the memories everyone who'd witnessed the events of the evening in question (and there might have some sleep-deprivation involved in the creation of that last one). But he had never once considered that IA would basically ignore everything that had happened that night and focus instead on Beckett's partnership with him. Had they really been watching her since the incident with Dick Coonan? He understood than any shooting inside of a police precinct would've been looked into, but for that to launch into a personal investigation on Beckett that lasted more than a year seemed... extreme. And why had it focused on... him?

Maybe Gates was right. Maybe he was holding back her career. He'd never really put any thought into that. He just knew that he loved tagging along with her and the boys, theorizing and catching bad guys. He'd never really thought about how his presence might have been affecting their work. But whether she was right or she wasn't, if all it would take for Beckett to get her badge back was his absence, he couldn't deny her that. It was such a simple thing. Not easy, but simple.

As he left the courthouse, he was struck by the idea that, after spending two straight weeks with Beckett, seeing her almost nonstop, he now didn't know when the next time he'd see her would be. If Gates had known about their trip to the Hamptons (how _had_ she known about that, by the way?), she could probably find out about pretty much any other time they were together if she tried hard enough. And she had seemed quite determined.

He knew that he should probably just go home... but Alexis was out of school for the summer, so she would probably be there, and his Mother's presence was predictably unpredictable... and it wasn't that having his family around was a problem, he just felt like he needed a little bit of time to organize his thoughts before he was barraged with their best intentions. So, somehow, he found himself back inside the coffee shop from earlier. But this time he sunk into a table in the back corner, blending into his surroundings. If he'd been in a frame of mind to care, he would've been horrified to learn that he could easily have been mistaken for one of the many boring, suit-clad businessmen.

He tried to let his mind go blank, to not think about anything so that he didn't over think everything, but that turned out to be easier said than done. It was an occupational hazard of both writing and detective work that he'd learned not to let anything go. The case was still unsolved. The story unfinished. Puzzle pieces floated across his consciousness, their jagged edges prodding him to look closer - to put them together, or at least try to sand them down a little.

When Beckett and then Montgomery had tried to convince him to go home earlier... had they known that this was going to happen? Had they wanted him out of the way so that they could attempt to convince the judge that he really wasn't that big a part of her life? Certainly they'd known _something_ he hadn't. But where had they gotten their information? Especially Beckett... had she known whatever it was that she'd known when they'd talked the night before? And why hadn't she said anything to him? Hadn't she thought he'd like to have some sort of warning, to be at least _somewhat_ prepared for this? Not that anything could have prepared him, but he really didn't like the idea that he was the only one who'd been quite as blindsided as he had.

But, obviously, this was about Beckett's life and her career. Not his. All he had to do was get used to the idea that the former couldn't necessarily include the latter anymore. Simple.

He'd been so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice her until she sat down across from him. Immediately he checked his watch. It had only been five minutes. She still had fifteen before she had to be back at the courtroom. But still... "What are you doing here?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you _think_ I'm doing here?" She slid him a cup of coffee. "Here. You look like you need it."

"Thanks," he mumbled. He sipped it tentatively, but then looked up, frowning at her. "You shouldn't be here. You need to be back at the courthouse."

"Funny, I was gonna tell you the same thing."

"'Funny,'" he quoted, "but I seem to recall you telling me to go home."

"Yeah, I did. And now you know why."

"No, I don't think I do. Did you know that the case IA was building was about me?"

She sighed. "It wasn't about you, it was about my partnership with you. And no, I didn't know, exactly... but Montgomery had his suspicions."

"And you didn't feel it necessary to share these 'suspicions' with me? All that time in the Hamptons when we were planning for this, and you didn't say anything?"

"No!" Her expression was caught somewhere between pain and frustration. "I didn't know then, or of course I would've said something. Montgomery called me yesterday and said that... he thought the hearing today was going to go badly. That... IA knew that I didn't do enough things wrong on that night to warrant disciplinary action, but that they were... 'determined'... so they were planning on presenting their case from a 'broader perspective.' One that he thought was going to involve you."

He sighed. "Well, he was right. But how did he know that?"

"I think he launched his own investigation while we were in the Hamptons."

He nodded. That shouldn't have surprised him. The captain had always been a little protective of his favorite detective. If she was in trouble, of course he would try to help.

"I wanted to tell you, but he asked me not to. He thought that the best move would be to convince you not to come today. I told him it wouldn't work, but he wanted to try. He said it was better not to give them more ammunition than they already had."

"He doesn't trust me. He thought I was going to say something stupid and make everything worse. And so did you."

She didn't deny it, but looked straight at him. Serious. No nonsense. "Tell me you didn't want to interrupt even once during Gates's speech."

He broke her eye contact with a growl. "Even Montgomery did that!"

"Yeah, he did. But after how long? If he hadn't told you not to, your first objection would've been...?"

"As soon as she started talking."

"Not good."

"Why?"

"It's not how it's done. It would've made you look bad in front of the judge, and ultimately what happens is his decision. Not Gates's. Not IA's."

"But I didn't. I didn't interrupt."

"No, you were good. But you know that Gates saw you, right? She knows you were there."

"So what?"

"So she can still use that against us."

"Not if I leave. Which I did, by the way."

"Yeah, I noticed that." She checked her watch. "We should head back. It probably wouldn't look good for me to be late."

He frowned. "What do you mean 'we'?"

She shrugged. "You're the writer."

"I know what 'we' means, but -" He sighed, frustrated. "You didn't want me there in the first place, and my being there obviously isn't doing you any good, so I'm out. I thought I made that clear when I left."

"I never said I didn't want you there. I said it would probably be better if you weren't there."

"Same difference."

"No, it's not. Do you really think that after everything we've gone through, with this case and this hearing and the Hamptons... that I'm just gonna let you walk away?"

"She said that if you agreed to stop working with me-"

"I don't care what she said. It's not her decision. Now come on. Let's go."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. Whatever happens next... I want my partner there with me. Anyway, the worst is behind us. Next is my turn to speak, and I think you'll want to hear what I have to say."

He narrowed his eyes. "You hate speaking in front of big groups of people." He knew it was true. She'd do it when she had to, but even addressing the homicide division at the Twelfth made her a little uncomfortable.

She shrugged. "But I was expecting to, so it's okay. Even if what I need to talk about is a little different from what I anticipated... this will be easier."

That didn't make him any less confused. "_What_ will be easier?"

She cracked half a smile and stood up from the table. "Come on, Rick. Let's go."

* * *

><p>When he went back in to the court room this time, he sat in the front with the rest of the team, between Beckett and Esposito. He figured that she must have spoken to Montgomery, because he didn't seem surprised at the relocation. Beckett was on edge, that much was obvious, but she didn't say anything, not to him or anyone else.<p>

It seemed strange to him now how little attention he'd been able to pay to her during the first part of the hearing. He'd wanted to, had kept looking at the back of her head as if it held the secret of life, but all that had done was leave him wondering how she'd managed to get her bun to stay the way it was: so tight and precise, without a single hair astray.

The whole time they'd been together in the Hamptons, he'd been studying her. Making sure that she was okay, that she was dealing with everything that was happening. He'd imagined today going similarly, if not to the same extent. But so far today, he'd done nothing but get in the way. Beckett had this covered. He wasn't needed. And while intuitively he knew that this was a good thing, that didn't necessarily mean that he liked it.

When the judge cleared his throat, she tensed visibly. His hand reached for her, but she shook her head, a gesture so small that it was almost imperceptible, but he caught it. And she was right. That probably wouldn't have been the best way to convince the judge, or Gates, that they weren't in a relationship. Even though they truly weren't. They'd talked about it, sort of... really they'd just talked about talking about it... but now he wasn't even sure if that conversation could ever happen. It didn't seem likely.

"The bench recognizes Kate Beckett," the judge said.

At that she stood, a little shakily, and approached the bench. She spoke slowly at first, but clearly, and with enough volume that the whole courtroom, although it was small, could easily hear. "Sergeant Gates has expressed her concerns about my relationship with our consultant, Mr. Richard Castle." It felt a little strange to hear her refer to him as Mr., but he smiled as she made a gesture toward him, making it quite obvious that he was present, and proceeded. "I would like to state for the official record that Mr. Castle is my partner. At several different points in the three years that I've known him, he has proved himself indispensable. Without his insight and his assistance, James Carson would never have been apprehended. Your honor," she said, turning to face the judge more directly, "I believe that I still have plenty to offer this city, and it is my desire to continue to work for the NYPD. However, I believe that my best police work has been done with Mr. Castle's help. He and I are not, nor have we ever been, romantically involved, but we are friends. The same thing could be said of many of the best partnerships I have come across during the course of my career." She glanced as Ryan and Esposito. "If you were to separate every set of partners who still consider themselves friends during off-duty hours, the quality of the police work in this city as a whole would surely decrease."

He could see that she was losing steam, so he tried to catch her eye. _You're doing great,_ he tried to convey in the glance that they shared for a fraction of a second. _Keep going._

She took a deep breath and continued. "Every decision that I have made during the course of my career has been mine. Not Castle's. Not anyone else's. It is my badge at stake today, and my choices are the only ones that should be viewed as relevant. It was my choice to to go after Carson with only Castle backing me, and it is my choice to consider him my partner. I stand by both decisions. And the only other choice that remains to be made, your honor, is yours." She nodded, ending her speech on a decisive note, but he couldn't help but notice that she was trembling slightly as she took her seat. It took everything he had to stop himself from trying to comfort her and sit still, keeping his hands folded in his lap. It helped a little when he saw Montgomery rest his hand on her shoulder in a paternal manner. It served as a reminder that he wasn't the only one here whose support she could rely on.

When she sat down, the judge stood. "Given the information presented today," he announced, "combined with my own knowledge of the case, my decision is clear. Detective Beckett has succeeded in finding and bringing James Carson, inarguably a very dangerous and unpredictable criminal, into custody. Regardless of her unorthodox methods," he glanced at Castle, "she should not be penalized for this service. Beyond this, my experience working with the NYPD has led me to believe that the bond between two partners, traditional or otherwise, is a vital component of some of the most accomplished police work. I would not think of disturbing that relationship without a _very_ clear reason, which in this case I have not seen. However, Detective Beckett should remember in the future that protocol is not something to be taken lightly. My order is that she be reinstated, but with six months' probation. The exact terms of the probation can be determined by her captain, but any infractions that occur during this period will not be easily forgiven."

The judge sat back down, and Beckett let out a long stream of air. That was it. It was over. And everything was okay.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **For the record, the hearing might be over, but the story isn't. Not just yet. :) Stay tuned, and please review!

Thanks for reading!


	24. More

Beckett's team clustered outside of the courtroom as everyone else filed out, beginning to decompress. Montgomery was all smiles, having been more invested in this hearing, Castle knew, than he would've been if any of his other detectives had been under investigation, although he'd never have admitted that. Ryan and Esposito were alternating between congratulating Beckett and insisting that they'd known it would turn out this way all along... but the clear relief on their faces led him to believe that they'd been more worried than they were willing to let on.

Castle was thrilled. The hearing had ended as well as could've been expected. All the nightmare scenarios he had created had come to nothing, and he couldn't have been more grateful for that. "I think we need to celebrate," he announced. "What do you say? Old Haunt tonight, drinks on the house?"

"Count me in," the captain responded immediately. The boys laughed and agreed as well.

Beckett, on the other hand, didn't seem quite as sure. At this point in the day, Castle would've expected her to be ecstatic, swimming in relief from her myriad of what-ifs, but her response to the gaiety surrounding her was halfhearted at best. She smiled, nodded, and agreed, "Yeah, sounds good," but her mind was somewhere else.

"Eight o'clock," he announced to the group, but focusing on Kate, trying to pull her back in. "Okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, eight o'clock. See you then."

Their group broke up as they left the courthouse, but he stuck with her, hoping to get at least a minute or two to talk. "So, what do you think?" he asked her. "Want to go back to my place and hang out for a little while?"

She shook her head. "No, I think I'll just go home."

Her tone was distant, and although he tried not to be, he couldn't help being a little offended by it. Had he done something wrong? "Oh... okay. Sure. Um... I'll see you tonight?"

"Yeah. Tonight."

* * *

><p>For the last two weeks, he'd been wishing for this day and these circumstances: for the hearing to be over, everything resolved in Beckett's favor. What he hadn't realized was that when that happened, his relationship with Beckett would very suddenly be returned to the way it had been before any of this had happened. These two weeks, the case, the hearing... it hadn't been good, but there could be no denying that it had brought the two of them closer. But now that it was over... it was over. He was just her partner. And Gates had made sure that that wasn't likely to change any time soon.<p>

He probably shouldn't have been upset. This was the best thing for her. The easiest thing for everyone. She kept her job, and nothing had to change. But then why did it feel like everything had?

It wasn't as if she'd been thrilled about the judge's verdict. She'd been happy, sort of, but not as much as she should've been. And she'd hardly said anything afterward, not to him or anyone else. He'd had visions of the hearing ending in a giant bear hug and a barrage of thank-yous for everything he'd done for her. And it wasn't as if he needed that... he'd helped because he'd wanted to, because he cared about her and she'd needed him, not because he wanted her gratitude, or to have something to hold over her head. It was just that... he had all these feelings for her. Feelings that, if Gates was right... probably weren't appropriate to have in a working relationship. But still, when they were in the Hamptons, he'd gotten the feeling, although it was stronger at some times than others, that she might've felt the same way. But now he was pretty sure that he'd been imagining things. Believing that she thought about him in ways that she probably never had, just because he'd wanted to believe it. And now that he realized he'd only been letting his imagination get away from him... he didn't even have a word to describe it. There was disappointment, and then there was this. The only thing he knew for sure was that it hurt.

He felt horribly for even thinking this, because he knew how much she'd risked to keep him as her partner... but he wasn't sure if he could do it anymore. Seeing her, spending time with her every day, knowing that they couldn't, and she didn't even want to be, anything more than partners, and knowing that his feelings for her weren't just going to go away... it was too much.

He hadn't made any decisions yet. He figured he'd go to the Old Haunt tonight... after all, he'd arranged it... and figure it out then. But he wasn't feeling particularly optimistic.

* * *

><p>The party was for her, and she was late. It was past eight-thirty, and still he was staring at the door, waiting for her to walk through it.<p>

Esposito clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past, surprising him enough that he jumped a little. "Relax, bro. She'll be here."

He nodded, although he couldn't keep the frown from his face. "Have you talked to her?"

"Not since we left the courthouse. But I know she'll be here. Hell, it's her party."

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Some party."

It should've been, actually. A lot of the cops from the Twelfth had shown up, including the captain, plus Lanie. Everyone except the guest of honor.

He finally broke down and decided to get a drink to help pass the time, but just as he was about to order it, the room erupted in applause. It was slow at first, just a few people, but soon nearly everyone caught on, and he knew that there was only one explanation. She was here.

When he spotted her, she was staring at the floor, looking extremely uncomfortable. It was strange considering he'd been waiting for her to show up all night, but now that she was here, he couldn't bring himself to go to her. She obviously hadn't wanted to talk to him all day. She hadn't called, or texted, or smoke signaled... She knew exactly how to find him, and she hadn't. So he figured he shouldn't push her now. He'd let her seek him out if she had anything to say. And if she didn't... well, maybe he didn't have anything to say to her either. He ordered his drink and grabbed a seat.

But it was only minutes before the empty seat beside him was suddenly full. "Hey, Castle," she said, with just enough volume for him to hear over the crowd. "Some gathering you've assembled here."

He shrugged. "It's your gathering. I just supplied the venue."

"And invited all these people, I imagine."

"No, that was mostly the boys. You're very popular with this crowd, though."

She blushed. "I didn't deserve the applause. I didn't really do anything."

"Well, they're glad to have you back. As they should be."

"Yeah... listen. Can we talk?"

"Aren't we?"

"You know what I mean. Somewhere... quieter."

She'd had all day to decide she wanted to talk, and she waited until now, in a bar crowded with people wanting to celebrate her victory? He wanted - hell, he _needed_ - to hear what she had to say, but he wasn't thrilled with her timing. "Where do you suggest we go?"

She raised an eyebrow and nodded downward, a slight sparkle in her eye.

His eyes widened. "You're serious?"

"It's private, isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah... yeah, it is." "Dark" and "creepy" were two other words that came to mind, but if she was seriously suggesting meeting in the hidden basement under his bar, he was certainly not going to turn down the opportunity. Cloak-and-dagger was one of his favorite themes. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>"You should put some more furniture down here." The room had been used as an office, but there was really only a chair and a desk. He hadn't done anything with it since he bought the place.<p>

"I wasn't anticipating using this room for secret meetings..." He met her eyes, and the cute, playful smile on her face was infectious. As mad at her as he'd been just a moment ago, he found that it couldn't last. "...but clearly I should've been. I'll get some furniture."

"Good." Her smile faded a bit, her face growing more serious. "Look, Castle, I never really got a chance to thank you for everything. The last two weeks, and today... it could've gone so much worse than it did, and you... you really helped."

He sighed. "Not today, so much."

"But that wasn't your fault. It's just the way IA set up the case."

He nodded. "Well, I'm happy to help. Glad everything worked out."

"I don't know about 'everything'."

"You got reinstated, right? Wasn't that the goal?"

"Yeah. It was." She let out a long stream of air. "Look, I thought about it a lot today, and I don't want to quit my job."

He frowned, wondering if he'd missed some word, or sentence, or... conversation... that would put that last comment into some sort of context. It had come out of her mouth so naturally, as if it had made perfect sense, but it hit him more like an anvil falling from the sky. "Of course you don't. Isn't that what the whole hearing was about? Making sure you didn't have to?"

"Making sure I didn't have to, yes. Not making sure that I wouldn't."

"What are you talking about?"

"We had this conversation in the Hamptons, remember? I said that with my mom's case solved, it might be nice to just... be a regular person for awhile."

He'd all but forgotten that conversation. At the time, he'd chalked it up to her fear that the hearing wouldn't resolve in her favor, and trying to remain optimistic, to make it seem like a loss wouldn't be so devastating. He'd never once considered that she'd even entertain the thought of quitting after being reinstated. That was so not Beckett. "But... you changed your mind. Right?"

"No, not exactly. I just... I know what I went through with this case, from the time it started to... well, today... and I know that there are other families out there who have to deal with the same thing every day. And it just seems... right... to keep doing whatever I can to make sure that it's a little easier for them than it was for me. That they don't have to-" she smiled, but without any real joy, "-become police officers and solve the cases themselves ten years later. It just... feels like it's what I'm supposed to do."

He nodded. "I get that. And... I knew you'd feel that way."

"But Internal Affairs is gonna be breathing down my neck for the next six months. I mean, you've seen what they're capable of. They knew we were in the Hamptons together, for god's sake."

"So you'll have to be a little more careful for awhile." He didn't quite understand her level of concern. "You can be by-the-book when you try, I'm sure you'll be fine."

She sighed. "I don't want to be careful. I want to be with you."

His mind went blank. "With..."

"You," she finished, with a nod.

She meant at work. She _had_ to mean at work. "Well, I'll have to be careful too, I guess. I'll try not to come up with too many crazy theories to throw you off-"

"Castle," she said, stopping him. "I'm ready. My mom's case is over, I can finally start to focus on my own life. And I'd love for it to include you. As more than just my partner."

His head was swimming. So when she'd wanted to be alone earlier, it wasn't because she'd been ignoring him. They wanted the same thing after all. But... "We can't do that, can we? With IA watching? And Gates said that-"

"I don't care what she said. Montgomery was right, my personal life is none of her business."

"So...?"

"So." She grinned. "Thoughts?"

Suddenly his immense vocabulary degenerated to just one non-word: "Uhh..."

"We _will_ have to be careful," she continued, paying no attention to his very profound remark. "We won't be able to tell anyone, at least not anyone at work, until the probation ends. I think Montgomery would back me if he had to, but it would be better for us and for him if we didn't take that risk."

"Sure. So, we continue to meet in secret underground rooms in the dead of night?"

She smirked. "Works for me."

"Hidden basements, forbidden romances... this is better than one of my books."

"I agree." He hadn't noticed her coming closer, but suddenly her face was just inches from his. And then, even more suddenly, it wasn't. Her felt the softness of her lips as they grazed his, inhaled the delicate scent of her perfume, and let his hand slide across the curve of her back as she leaned into him. Time had no meaning. Air didn't seem important. There was him, and there was her, and nothing else mattered.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I didn't plan it this way, but it turned out to be pretty appropriate that this chapter is getting posted on Valentine's Day. :) Hope you liked it. :)

I'm pretty sure the next chapter is going to be the last one. So... consider yourselves warned.

As always, reviews are lovely, and thanks for reading! :)


	25. Together

**A/N: **Last chapter, as promised. :) It's bittersweet, as ending a story that's gone on for this long always is... but I legitimately didn't think I was gonna finish this one for awhile, so I'm actually kind of excited to see it end. I hope the ending does the rest of the story justice. And... I really don't have much more to say, so... enjoy. :)

* * *

><p>He didn't want to go upstairs. He didn't want to leave this spot, maybe ever. For right now, in the dim one-time office hidden beneath his bar, he and Kate were together, in the truest sense of the word, and everything was perfect. The second they left, or even moved, reality would begin to descend. Upstairs was a bar full of cops who couldn't know about the burgeoning relationship, at least not right away. In the world above their seclusion, they would go back to being partners: and the kind of partners they'd been before all of this, not the kind of partners they'd been in the Hamptons. Even outside of work, they were going to have to be careful. It was a sacrifice that he was willing to make, but he didn't want to make it. And by the fact that she seemed perfectly content to sit there with him, sharing the desk chair that was only meant for one, he gathered that she didn't either.<p>

"People are gonna wonder where you went," he finally said, bursting the bubble.

"Let them," she murmured.

"But then they'll start wondering where I went, and almost everyone up there is a trained investigator. Remember, we're supposed to be keeping this quiet?"

She sighed. "You're right, but I wish you weren't."

He smirked. "And this is unusual how?"

She rolled her eyes. "You might want to keep in mind that kissing you doesn't make me immune to being annoyed by you."

"Well we wouldn't want everything to change, now would we?"

"I guess not." She looked at the stairs. "Okay, me first. You come up in a few minutes."

He frowned. "I don't have to avoid you for the rest of the night, do I? Because I'm willing to pretend that we aren't in a relationship, but not seeing you at all... I don't think I'm okay with that."

She half-smiled. "No, you don't have to avoid me. But in case someone's noticed how long we've been gone, I think it would be better if we didn't go back together. And since it's supposed to be my party and I've hardly spent any time there, I think I should probably be the first to appear. But as soon as you come up, you can find me. Okay?"

"I'm gonna hold you to that."

"Feel free." She kissed him once more, quickly but softly and on the lips. "My place when we're done here?"

"Good thought."

"See you in a few."

* * *

><p>When he got upstairs he went straight for the bar, and remembering Kate's preference, ordered two vodka martinis. Even in the crowd, it didn't take him long to find her. Even though it was her party, she wasn't in the middle of the action, but rather off to the side, out of the way, talking to Ryan and Jenny. He sidled up to the subgroup and handed her the drink. She sipped it, testing to see what it was, and then smiled. "Thanks, Castle."<p>

"No problem."

"Can't wait to have the two of you back," Ryan remarked. "The precint's been weird without you. When do you start up again, Beckett?"

"I don't know, guess I'll have to check with the boss. He's around here somewhere, isn't he? I thought I saw him when I came in."

"Yeah, he's here. And he was looking for you earlier, might wanna track him down. I don't think it was anything important though, he probably just wants to congratulate you. We all kinda separated right after the hearing."

"Yeah, I'll do that. Catch up with you guys later."

"Sounds good."

Castle was torn. He wanted to follow her, but he wasn't sure how that would look, especially since he'd hardly spent any time talking to the Ryans. He'd just made the decision to stay here, at least for a few minutes, when Beckett turned to him, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Coming, Castle?"

"Uh... sure. Yeah. See you guys." He waved a bit awkwardly and followed Beckett over toward the other side of the room.

It didn't take long to spot Montgomery. He was standing near the bar, chatting with a couple of beat cops who Castle recognized but couldn't name. When they saw him and Beckett approach they walked away, both with polite congratulations for Beckett, leaving the captain free to approach.

"Where have you two been all night?" he asked as they met.

"I, uh, just got here a little while ago," Beckett explained.

"I know, I saw you come in. About an hour ago." He raised his eyebrows, as if awaiting an explanation, but before Castle could begin to formulate one, he smiled. "So, you two ready to come back? We're looking forward to having you back at the precinct... our closure rates are gonna skyrocket."

Beckett grinned, rolling her eyes. "I don't know about that, sir, but thanks for the vote of confidence."

He ignored her comment. "So, the schedule's already been set for this week, so you'll have to wait until Monday. Think you can find a way to keep yourself occupied until then?"

Castle could've sworn that Roy's eyes met his own for a fraction of a second, complete with a knowing glint, but it didn't last even long enough for him to be sure that it had happened.

Beckett nodded. "I think I can manage."

"That's what I like to hear. Now go, have fun. This is your party, after all. And you've certainly got something to celebrate: it's all over."

It seemed to take a second for what he said to dawn on her, but then she nodded. "It is. It's over." She looked at Montgomery. "Thank you." The words were simple enough, but Castle got the feeling they were meant to encompass more than the short conversation they'd just had.

"You're quite welcome, Detective. I'll see you Monday."

* * *

><p>"Successful end to a successful evening," he sighed, unable to wipe the grin from his face. Even when Kate had suggested they come here, to her apartment, after the celebration, it hadn't occurred to him that the evening would end in this way. He'd thought that maybe they'd talk some more, or get something to eat, but this... this was so much better.<p>

"Mhm." She turned to face him, smiling, her hair splayed across her pillow.

"So the chances of repeating this are...?"

"Mandatory."

"Good. Just... making sure we're on the same page."

"Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"Shh."

He sighed. He didn't want to 'shh.' And not just because he rarely did. There was so much he wanted to talk about. Thoughts, plans, logistics, details from the hearing that he'd never quite managed to wrap his head around... there was a lot to discuss, and he wanted to discuss it. "Can't we just-?"

She interrupted. "Shh."

"But I want to-"

The vocal shushing not working, she pressed her finger to his lips. "Castle. We're not low on time, here. I don't work 'til Monday. There'll be plenty of time to talk. Let's just enjoy the moment."

He smiled. That, he could do. He mimed locking his lips, but rather than throwing away the key, he offered it to her.

"I don't have pockets," she pointed out. And she certainly did not. "Where should I put this?"

He shrugged, maintaining the charade of not being able to open his mouth.

She shifted a bit and hid the invisible key under her pillow. "There. Now, where were we?"

He slid toward her and held up his arm, making a place for her. She took it, leaning into his chest, and he let his arm rest on her side, silently marveling at how perfectly their bodies folded together. Enjoying the moment.

* * *

><p>When he woke up the morning before, he'd never imagined that now, just a day later, he'd be waking up here, in Kate's bed, in her apartment. For a moment he wondered if he was correctly separating dream from reality. Had he dreamt the last two weeks, or only the last twenty-four hours? Was he dreaming now?<p>

She wasn't here with him, so as a way of checking himself he got out of bed, put on his clothes from the night before, and wandered out of the bedroom. He found her in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee that must've just finished brewing. When she saw him coming, she got out a second mug.

"Good," he said, inhaling the coffee scent. "I'm not dreaming."

"Not unless I am too." She finished pouring and slid a cup to him.

He gave her a quick smile of gratitude. "Well, in that case, it's a pretty good dream. Wouldn't you agree?"

It was a pretty obvious way to persuade her to stroke his ego, and he knew she'd see it that way. Which she did, as her smirk confirmed, but she played along. "Not too bad."

He pretended to be insulted, aware that she was trying to bait him. "Not too _bad?"_

"Yeah, you know. I think we should... practice."

He grinned. "Practice. Yeah. I like the sound of that."

"Not right now, though." She nodded toward the couch, and he followed with his coffee. It wasn't quite the same as it had been in the Hamptons, sitting on the deck in the sunshine each morning, drinking coffee while staring out at the waves, but in a more everyday, domestic way, it was almost as nice.

As had been their custom then, neither said anything until the coffee was almost gone, the morning jolt beginning to take effect. But when it was time, he did. "So, no work 'til Monday, right? Want to go back up to the Hamptons for a few days? Relax a little?"

She half-smiled. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because. Listen. Your place in the Hamptons is great. It is. I loved being there. And maybe someday we can go back and... have a real vacation, or something. But I live here, and so do you. It's where we work. It's where our friends and our families are. And we don't need to leave all of that behind every time we get a little time off."

He nodded. "I guess you're right. It was nice though, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. It was." For a fraction of a second, her eyes flitted over toward the wall behind him, almost involuntarily. Following them, he saw a frame on her wall that she'd never noticed before, housing a sand dollar. Upon closer inspection, he saw a label in her neat handwriting on the white mat beneath it: "Hamptons with Castle, 2011." It was the one he'd given her.

She cleared her throat, changing the subject. "I talked to Montgomery yesterday. After the hearing. He called me."

Castle frowned. He wasn't sure what that had to do with anything. "Yeah? What about?"

"The hearing and... everything. And you."

His frown deepened. "Me?"

"He looked into Gates's investigation through some contacts he has, trying to find out how she knew about us being in the Hamptons together. She didn't have me followed, exactly, she's big on protocol... but she knows a lot of people. Including people in the Hamptons. He's talked to some of her 'sources,' and he thinks she'll be a little less... eager... now that the hearing is over. We'll still have to be careful, but he kept assuring me that my personal life is personal, meaning it's none of IA's business."

"He knows, doesn't he? That we're together."

"Not officially. You've been with me almost constantly since we made it official, so you'd know if I'd said anything to him. But... he knows me. And you. And I think he knew that after my mom's case was done, it was just a matter of time."

After everything that had happened, it was easy to... not forget, exactly, but overlook the fact that this hearing had only been the very last chapter in the story of Johanna Beckett's murder. It wasn't a separate entity unto itself, but a segment of Kate's long and recurring nightmare. And he realized it had been awhile - a long while - since they'd talked about it. "You doing okay with that? I mean-" he stopped himself, because he could see it on her face. "You know what I mean."

She nodded. "I do know what you mean. But I am. I think it's... time to move on. And now that it's over, I think I can. Start a new phase of my life."

He smiled, although he wasn't exactly trying to make light. "One that includes me."

She echoed his smile. "Yeah."

"So... what do you think about me telling Alexis? I know we're supposed to keep this under wraps, but I don't like keeping things from her, and she's gonna find out at some point anyway."

"Oh yeah, absolutely. Tell her, and your mom too if you want. That's what Roy meant, I think. We'll have to be careful at work, but it doesn't have to be top secret."

"So tomorrow night, you wanna come to my place?"

She nodded. "Sounds perfect."

"Perfect," he repeated. And it was. Finally he could be with the woman he'd been dreaming about for so long. Finally the timing was right. And maybe most of all, finally she'd been able to see her mother's killer brought to justice, and without any negative impact on her career. He'd seen it all happen, beginning to end, from the moment she decided to reopen the investigation until the end of yesterday's hearing. It had been quite a ride. But now, finally, they'd reached the end. He knew that being the daughter of a victim would always have a place in the back of her mind, and that it would always affect her detective work, but that, he thought, was a good thing. It was what made her who she was. What made her great. But while the case had remained unsolved, it had always consumed a part of her consciousness, and often it wasn't a small part.

"I couldn't have done it without you, you know," she said, jolting him from his thoughts.

"Done what?"

"Caught Carson."

But he knew Kate Beckett, and he had to disagree. "I'm sure you could've."

"Maybe. But I wouldn't have. I was too afraid... that I'd lose myself again. You kept me grounded."

He shrugged. "I'm happy I could help. But you know what the best part is?"

"What?"

"The best part is that it's over."

She shook her head, her bottom lip catching between her teeth. "I disagree."

"Oh yeah?"

She nodded, leaning into him until he could feel her coffee-scented breath against his cheek. "The best part is that we're together."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Another story down. :) And considering how long this one took me to write, I just wanted to take a second to say that if you've stuck with it from the beginning, you're awesome. And very patient. If you picked it up somewhere in the middle and kept reading, you're also awesome. If you just read the whole thing today, you're awesome. If you've ever reviewed, you're awesome. Basically, if you're reading this right now, there's a pretty good chance that you are awesome. :) Thanks for reading, thanks for reviewing, and even though this particular story's over, I'll keep writing. :)


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